I want to lick a chicken. . .

Tuesday happened to be grocery shopping day this week.

Not the usual day. I like to get it done on Mondays. But, after being down with the [ugh] stomach flu this weekend, the first day I could drag myself into the store was Tuesday.

With Luke and Ethan in tow.

And I could tell (as the pleads for doughnuts began in aisle one of Deliverance Mart), that it was going to be a long trip.

The pleas for doughnuts were only preceded by the pleas for french fries (at 10 am). Those pleas began again as we were leaving the store. And, weakened, I relented because it was close to lunch.

I pulled into the drive thru ready to order a large french fries, when the voice from the back seat spoke: I want to lick a chicken.

Now, let me tell you. . . .I am the one who sings all the wrong words to every song. Not because I don't know them, but because I somehow always hear the wrong words (case in point: the song What's on your mind by the Information Society. . .you know, the one from the 80s with Spock saying pure energy. . .well, for the longest time, I thought he was saying Dreck. . . Yeah, well. . . ). So, I wasn't really sure that was what I heard. . . .

What?

I want to lick a chicken. I want to try it.

[Ah-ha. Licking something has become synonymous with trying something in our house. And now the quick mental calucations begin. He never asks to try anything. . . And he never wants to eat anything but goldfish and cereal. . . Do I really want to waste the money on chicken he won't eat? Especially because my stomach was still feeling sour and there was no way I was eating them. . . . . But, if he wants to try them, then that has to be some sort of victory. . .] Sure! Let's get some nuggets.

And. . . Do you know what? Not only did he lick one. But he declared he liked it. [Which isn't unusual. . . he has also taken rat bites of many assorted candies, cookies, brownies, carrots, apples and strawberries, for these "delicious" and "liked" foods to end up in the trash, uneaten. . .]

Imagine my shock, when I pulled into Target's parking lot to find a nugget all gone. Poof! Disappeared.

Eaten. . .

Yeah. I think I brought home the wrong kid from Walmart.

But, that kid looks amazingly like my Luke. So, I'll keep him. [And, for the record, he ate a second nugget while we were shopping in Target.]

wise observation of the day

Luke: If I sit on a squirrel, he will break.
Because, he's made of bones.

In case you didn't know. . .

baby food

Yesterday we started a second meal. . . Really? Already?

But he's been watching us eat, licking his little lips. And after he watched my cereal bowl. . .reaching for it with his little hands. . . Sam suggested we start a second meal. Which he happily agreed to. Yesterday: rice cereal with a dinner of bananas.

So, while shopping yesterday afternoon, I browsed the baby food aisles of Target, Walmart, and Giant Eagle. . . But I just couldn't get myself to pick up any of those cute little jars and put them in the cart.

I made Jack's baby food. He never had anything from a jar (except the meats. . .couldn't bring myself to puree those).

With Luke, I just didn't have the energy.

So, I vowed to go back "old school" this time.

However, I haven't been able to find any peaches for weeks to introduce to him. Not in season? Probably not. But, I did find some yesterday. . . Some yellow flesh peaches. So I grabbed two small ones that seemed pretty ripe. . . Along with some organic carrots, some apples, and a pear.

I let fruits sit out last night to get some extra ripening time, and then set to work making some peaches this afternoon.

Peeling. . .and cutting. . .and cooking. . .and pureeing. . .

While Ethan hung out (not very quietly) at my feet.

And all we got was enough for two meals. . . Ah, how I forgot that part. . .

And, although they were ripe, they weren't very sweet. And the poor boy made such faces while I fed it to him. Poor thing smiled at first. . . but by the end, he was gagging. . . And I couldn't bring myself to feed him any more.

And he has spent the rest of the evening spitting up. . . So much for the peaches experiment.

I might be going to for those little jars tomorrow after all.

Fruined. . .

[On the way home from Walmart this afternoon. . .after a mean Mama said No to buying another Lightning McQueen. . .because today was a looking day. . .]

My day is fruined. You fruined my day, Mama.

What?

Fruined. My day is fruined.

Oh, I ruined your day. How did I do that?

Because I wanted my Lightning McQueen. And now my day is fruined. You made it dirty and now it is fruined.

[Now I'm laughing. Couldn't hold it in.]

Stop laughing. You threw yucky on it. And now it is dirty. And it is fruined.

[Laughing harder now. Which didn't help his drama. Too funny.]