Spoons, the Horror

Greta is growing up by leaps and bounds these days. The biggest change of the past week is that she will no longer eat anything from a spoon but yogurt. I’d been feeding her multigrain cereal with pureed veggies for part of her dinner, which she’s always loved—and then, one day last week, she saw the spoon  approaching and dramatically turned her head away, her nose in the air, craning her neck and pressing her lips together. Same thing with the mashed tofu and banana that she used to love—a tossed head with eyes squeezed shut: Please, madame, get that filth away from me.

She will now eat only regular food, with her fingers. Rice, broccoli, pasta, beans, cheese, bread, carrots, fruit, mac and cheese, sweet potato cubes. We’ve left baby food behind. We are, however, still nursing four or five times in twenty-four hours. And I’m supposed to wean her in two months?

Greta can also now wave goodbye. She waves with her whole arm, like a marionette, and she’ll wave as long as you continue to coo “Bye bye! Bye bye, Greta! Bye bye!” Lucia thinks this is both hilarious and slightly alarming, which is pretty much her standard reaction to Greta these days. Wow, my little sister is really funny and we can giggle together AND SHE’S GRABBING MY STUFF AND CRAWLING OVER TO ME AND TRYING TO STAND UP STOP HER STOP HER STOP HER. Sometimes she’ll give Greta a withering look if she’s nosed in on something Lucia’s doing and then just look at me and say, “Move her.” Like Greta is an oddly shaped piece of furniture that just keeps getting in the way.