Tuesday, March 18, 2008
When I was a non-father, I used to marvel at babies’ obsession with Cheerios. It seemed like every time I saw a person under two, they were covered in the bland little O’s. I remember thinking, “Why? There are, like, a billion cereals in any given grocery store. Why can’t the cereal of choice be Cap’n Crunch? Or Cookie Crisp? Those are cereals. Babies are dumb.”
Looking back on that dramatic interpretation of my thoughts, I was kind of a jerk.
Well, Elijah’s recent mastery of his opposable thumbs means he loves feeding himself. There is nothing within arm’s reach that he won’t try to wolf down. Grapes, Veggie Booty, Bananas, Avocado…
On a side note, our big orange shag rug in the living room sheds shag-shaped orange fuzz bits. I’m convinced Eli’s colon is packed to the gills with orange fuzz.
Where was I? Oh, Cheerios. Last Saturday, I spied a huge box of Cheerios in the pantry. I have no idea why we had a brand-named cereal. Diana prefers all natural hippie cereals like, “Sweetened Sticks and Bark.”
Eli was currently in his high chair cramming his face with bananas. I tentatively grabbed a handful of Cheerios and placed them on his tray. He stared at them. I said, “Don’t like them. Please don’t like them. Please.” He put one in his mouth and cooed.
It was all over. He loves Cheerios. Loves them. Can’t get enough.