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‘Dem Apples

By Richie Ann Ashcraft
The baby food making is a huge success. I’m feeling all smug and Martha Stewarty about myself. I’ve blended up a cornucopia of Grand Valley’s best produce for my little guy. He loves food. His particular favorite is the Palisade Peach. This year’s crop is so juicy that after boiling in a small amount of water, I was left with an overly runny gruel. I thickened it with a bit of oatmeal cereal making it just right. When he eats it, I bask in the thought that I am the best cook ever and was smart enough to thicken it with baby cereal making it even healthier. Green beans are not his favorite, but I try to trick him by sneaking in some apples or sweet potato. I think he’s on to me but realizes the futility of such a fight. But maybe not because he is just learning that he can spit. Lucky me. Most days I can’t shovel it in fast enough. He eats like his dad. Like some other baby/daddy is going to come along and eat his blendered tator/juicy pork chop if they don’t hurry. Now, the EDL (evil dark lord for those who missed that entry) will grab at just about everything on my plate. I can’t hold him and eat anymore because his little paws are mushing around in my pasta or smacking my pizza out of my hand. Poor kid can’t wait to get teeth so he can try some tuna noodle. My smugness came to a screeching halt the other day. What goes in must come out and nothing had for a few days. I’ve been discussing how best to write this next bit with Robin. She suggested a disclaimer: (Disclaimer: The fact is some people are squeamish about words such as poop, but another fact is that poop is a crucial part of parenting, as I am just learning. I will do my best to proceed with tact but if you don’t like poop stories, stop reading now.) So, everyone was on poop watch. I wasn’t extremely worried but had taken mental notes of each diaper I changed. I changed a wet one and left to put the dirty in the bin and get a clean one. When I returned the poop watch was over. A dingleberry was a danglin’. And I mean a really stinky PlayDoh one! I had been warned that what goes in must come out….but I didn’t know it would make me retch! Things were a movin’….right before my very eyes. I couldn’t diaper that kid fast enough. I sat on the couch and thought with a mischievous smile: “When is your dad coming home??

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