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May 5, 2011

The Proof Is In the Carrots

After seven and a half months, I am convinced that Jacob is indeed my son.  Yes, I gave birth to him, and yes his baby face resembles mine in my baby photos.  But some degree of disbelief has lived in me since he was born.  Finally that incredulity has been put to rest, based on the simple and honest fact that my little boy loves carrots.

I was an incredibly picky eater as a child, and I met many, many fruits and veggies that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with.  Carrots, though, mmm.  Carrots were always my best friend on the food pyramid.  I’d help my mom peel them before dinner and often eat my share raw before we even sat down to the meal.  I’d munch and munch, asking “What’s up, Doc?” over and over, totally content in my orange-y beta-carotene bliss.  Thankfully, I never turned orange.  On the other hand, I did end up with glasses, so my trusty friend didn’t really live up to my expectations.  But these things are easily forgiven, and I still love carrots, to the point that John often offers me his when we’re in restaurants or ordering in Chinese food.

Now Jacob is slowly but surely making his way into big boy food.  He’s tried rice cereal, bananas, avocadoes, sweet potatoes, and apples, all of which elicit a face like this one:

No matter how many times he’s eaten these things, no matter if they are cold from the fridge or room temperature, this is what I get when I feed him the food I’ve lovingly made with my own hands.

When we tried carrots this week, I didn’t get that face at all.  I got this one:

Do you see the rampant joy issuing across his face?  The giggle?  Can you tell on the next bite he’s going to lunge for the spoon?  And do you see how we’ve gotten carrots everywhere?  Mealtime now means food on hands, face, feet, socks, pants, shirt, high chair—in at least four places—and most interestingly, eyelashes.

Admittedly, I’m not sure if he loves the carrots or the fact that this food was made by Gerber.  I hope it’s the former; if not, I am officially insulted.  I puree a mean sweet potato, I’ll have you know.

Either way, it’s exciting to see Jacob start to enjoy solid food, and to see a little bit of myself in my favorite little boy in the whole world.

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