He ate a LOT of beets this way. Afterwards, we had this:
And then, of course, the dreaded beet diaper. "Imma! Imma, look Imma! Avtalyon pooped PURPLE!"
Monday, June 29, 2009
Beety
I made picked beets last week. I really love pickled beets. I always thought it was a Hungarian thing, but Avtalyon, who has never even been to Hungary, liked them too. He liked them so much that, when presented with a bowlful, he employed the two-fisted hand-over-hand eating technique in which one hand shoves beets into mouth while other hand grabs more beets from bowl, continuing with this until there are no more beets left, at which time the hand discovering a beetless bowl presents said bowl for refilling (before the other hand has even finished cramming the last few in the gaping beety maw).
He ate a LOT of beets this way. Afterwards, we had this:
And then, of course, the dreaded beet diaper. "Imma! Imma, look Imma! Avtalyon pooped PURPLE!"
He ate a LOT of beets this way. Afterwards, we had this:
And then, of course, the dreaded beet diaper. "Imma! Imma, look Imma! Avtalyon pooped PURPLE!"
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5 comments:
Mmmmmmmmmmmmm. Beets.
He looks happy, I hope that means the ear is better. He has inspired me to make pickled beets with our farm share. Thanks Avtalyon!
Mmmmmmm beets. I usually just cook them. Or, to be more honest, I usually look pitiful till my mom agrees to cook me some. My brother's started doing this lately, too.
A big treat from my childhood was beets from the beet-vendor's cart. (OK, we thought that was normal - get over it.) They were slow-baked, possibly overnight, and caramelized slightly. If you wanted to eat them right there, you got a bowl and a spoon from him and stood there to eat, then give the bowl and spoon back. My dad was, of course, far too modern and concerned with hygiene to permit this, but he would occasionally get a couple to bring home for us to eat with our own (clean) dishes and silverware.
Uh, since I can't edit my comment, two corrections/clarifications:
1. my brother has started cooking beets and giving me some, not trying to manipulate our mother into doing so.
2. the "get over it" sounds harsher than I meant it. It's 1:30 am here and I have no business putting words togetherly.
Purple poop. Nice. This weekend, my girls only ate blueberries. I almost took a picture of the subsequent diaper deposits. Almost.
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