A Disgusting Breakthrough

Over the past 48 hours, Mia has gone from a frustrated-stuck-under-the-couch backwards maneuver-er to a full on forwards I’m-motoring-with-a-purpose crawler.

She is reveling in her new skills. We, as always, remain a few steps behind -- simultaneously unprepared and in denial about her latest development

I still perceive my fast approaching 9 month old as a helpless baby. Every day at meal time I am tempted by the Cheerio gods to test her rock hard gums with the terrifyingly choking-potential cereal I know she will love, and then sigh in defeat as I resort to another mushy mouthful of pureed baby food or tiny pieces of Mum-Mums. Using the same mindset, I place her on the floor to play and expect her to be in the same spot I left her in when I get back.

Unbeknownst to me, my little girl is a bit of an adventurer.

She is also, apparently, tired of baby mush.

Today I placed her in the kitchen with a giant pile of extremely stimulating yoghurt containers. Rob and I were both around; the fault is shared equally. I was PLANNING to keep an eye on Mia- - I really was. But a 3 year old’s ear-piercing cries of; “I JUST HAD A POOH IN MY UNDER WEAR!!!! ” is somewhat distracting. For both of us.

It was about 5 minutes later, after the sobbing Toby had been changed, cleaned and settled down that Rob inquired as to the whereabouts of our other child.

“She’s in the kitchen.” I said, knowing, as soon as the words left my mouth, that she probably wasn’t.

The house was eerily quiet. Except, of course, for the sweet little sounds of crunching that came from the front hall.

To my utter disgust I found Mia, knee deep in the dog food. The dry, kibble, choking hazard kind.

I rushed her to the sink and cleaned her off. She had 3 pieces tucked into the folds of her neck fat, multiple segments of pieces in her tight little fists and a plethora of oozy, smelly dog food drool coating her chin and belly.

I’ve done barf.

I’ve done diarrhea.

I’ve drained anal abscessed.

This, however, was utterly disgusting.

It wasn’t until about 5 minutes into her impromptu bath that I discovered the lone victorious kibble, still lodged in the side of her cheek for safekeeping.

I probably wouldn’t readily relive those horrifying moments of discovery and stomach turning clean up, but I will acknowledge that I gained a little respect for my daughter tonight. Not only has she successfully proven to us that she CAN now crawl, she has also demonstrated to us that she has both drive and determination and maybe a sense of humour to boot. But most excitingly, she has proven to us that she CAN handle something with a bit more texture to it than mushy baby food.

And her reward for the deathly defying act of kibble crunching?

For the first time in her life, I fed her cheerios for dinner.

And she loved them.