Have I mentioned Iyyar's feelings about solid food?
Specifically, his one feeling about solid food, which can be summarized even more concisely in three letters, those being "Feh!"
He doesn't like food. He doesn't like rice cereal, or mashed bananas, or mashed avocadoes, or baby food, or any of that. He wants to nurse. A lot. All the time. To the exclusion of all else.
But he's closing in on nine months, and we're getting to the point where there just isn't enough on tap to keep him happy. He's waking up more at night to nurse, and going through much more stored milk on the mornings I work than I can pump. (Yes, I've got that freezer stash, but it isn't going to last forever.) He needs another source of calories. So I've been trying.
I mentioned a while back that he did show a very great interest in the vegetables in my chicken soup. Excellent, I thought--he's eating vegetables, even if chicken soup isn't the standard first food. And I think I had a good laugh at my little Ashkenazi baby.
Yeah, well. It gets better.
Today we were invited out for Shabbos lunch. Iyyar wanted to nurse as soon as we got there, so he nursed through the gefilte fish course (not at the table, obviously--I repaired to the guest room). Then we went back to the table and the cholent came out.
He plotzed for it. It was ridiculous. He WANTED MY CHOLENT. What could I do? I gave him some, trying to stick to the barley part and mashing the occasional kidney bean (don't tell me what his diaper is going to look like tomorrow, I can imagine it vividly enough on my own). He ate everything I had on my plate (which wasn't much) and then another entire ladleful. Every time I decided he'd had enough, he disagreed. At the top of his very able lungs.
He's not a baby. He's somebody's Galicianer Zaide, reincarnate--smaller, cuter, equally toothless, and with the same taste in food.
Tomorrow for breakfast: matjes herring.