Alex eats everything in very small bites. The more he likes it, the slower it disappears. When he reaches the bottom of his yogurt cup, or the melted remnants lining his bowl of ice cream, he turns to the nearest unoccupied (and sometimes occupied) adult for help getting the rest of it onto his spoon. He is neat and tidy. Aside from a milk/juice moustache, he tolerates no mess. If something falls on the floor, he retrieves it immediately. He is meticulous and methodical, and suspicious of new foods—and he doesn’t like to mix foods on a utensil. Now that he’s resigned himself to reality (we will NOT give him a separate spoon for his peas and his ice cream), he has adapted. He wipes it carefully on a napkin when he’s changing foods.
Julianna, on the other hand, tears into whatever she’s offered with reckless abandon. She grunts and squeals as you cut it, and inevitably puts her hand in harms way, trying to get to the biggest piece—the one you’re still working on with the knife. Left to herself, smears her breakfast, lunch and dinner all over her face and neck, using it to glue her hair together. (This means that certain foods—PBJ, mac & cheese—are only on the menu on bath day.) She hurls food everywhere, but especially on the floor. She signs frantically for “drink,” and then guzzles it as if she’s been in a desert for two days without water.
And Nicholas? At the end of every “meal” (at least, the ones that don’t end with him asleep), he leans back on his Boppy and looks up at me with unadulterated adoration. All I have to do is look down and smile, and I get a huge, silly grin in return—and lately, some adorable “ghe-heh” cooing and early laughs as well.
What can I learn from my children?
From Alex, I learn to savor the moments. I learn that quality is more important than quantity.
Julianna shows me how to approach life with exuberance, without inhibitions.
And Nicholas teaches me that a smile does more to change the world than the most expensive, elaborate feast ever could.
It seems cold to read this wonderful warm piece and then tell you what a good writer you are. That maybe misses the point, but this is so well expressed.
The words bring it alive.
Thanks. Also an inadequate word to express the sentiment…but sincere nonetheless. Thanks for reading.