Evening life is starting to settle into a routine that I can finally handle without sweating and without holding The Baby the whole time.
We use baby gates. Here we used them to keep the cats and/or the damned dog out of the bedroom, laundry room, or kitchen. Now we are using them to keep The Baby from going OUT of the kitchen, living room, going down the hairy hallway, etc….
We have a high chair now, so we can feed The Baby without too much of a mess on OUR clothes, our floor, the cats, the rugs, and the front of the cupboards.
We HAVE found a problem with her using the high chair.
Her mother, The Punk told us that she doesn’t eat baby food. She doesn’t eat much. So this is a challenge I felt I was up to.
I’m stupid.
We have been cooking chicken with very little spices, veggies so soft you have to use a spoon, and something starchy. The Baby likes her carrots cut just right, she enjoyed the mac and cheese, and even ate a few bites of the chicken.
The damned dog isn’t allowed in the kitchen while we are eating. So as soon as The Man stands up, the damned dog runs in to do clean up crew. Good, that’s great.
Until I look over and see The Baby hanging over the side of the high chair feeding the damned dog. And LAUGHING. How can I be mad. I tell her no, it’s baby’s food, not the doggie’s. So she shoves another carrot into her mouth… ACCCKKKK, after the DAMNED DOG licked her hand. I’m starting to sweat AGAIN. I hurry to the sink to get something to wash her hands with, and turn around to see her feeding the damned dog again.
Didn’t I just yell at him to get out? *sigh* He’s not stupid, he runs in as soon as he sees that little arm with a fistful of food hanging down.
So I try to wash her hands off since they’ve been dog licked twice now and she throws herself back in the highchair. WHAT THE…….
I sit down again and am keeping an eye on her, watching her eat. And wouldn’t you know it. The Man and I both see it in her eyes, that look of mischief in a 10 month old? I’m amazed, I’m in awe, and I watch as she looks back at me and leans over the side of the highchair and in runs the dog to lick the handful of food out of The Baby’s hand!
She knows she isn’t suppose to do that, yet she’s daring me??? Daring US??? To say no? OMG… so dinner time is over for this little girl who is becoming the carbon copy of her mother, The Punk.
I’m tired and it’s only 6pm.
Two more days, two more days, two more days……
We use baby gates. Here we used them to keep the cats and/or the damned dog out of the bedroom, laundry room, or kitchen. Now we are using them to keep The Baby from going OUT of the kitchen, living room, going down the hairy hallway, etc….
We have a high chair now, so we can feed The Baby without too much of a mess on OUR clothes, our floor, the cats, the rugs, and the front of the cupboards.We HAVE found a problem with her using the high chair.
Her mother, The Punk told us that she doesn’t eat baby food. She doesn’t eat much. So this is a challenge I felt I was up to.
I’m stupid.
We have been cooking chicken with very little spices, veggies so soft you have to use a spoon, and something starchy. The Baby likes her carrots cut just right, she enjoyed the mac and cheese, and even ate a few bites of the chicken.
The damned dog isn’t allowed in the kitchen while we are eating. So as soon as The Man stands up, the damned dog runs in to do clean up crew. Good, that’s great.
Until I look over and see The Baby hanging over the side of the high chair feeding the damned dog. And LAUGHING. How can I be mad. I tell her no, it’s baby’s food, not the doggie’s. So she shoves another carrot into her mouth… ACCCKKKK, after the DAMNED DOG licked her hand. I’m starting to sweat AGAIN. I hurry to the sink to get something to wash her hands with, and turn around to see her feeding the damned dog again.
Didn’t I just yell at him to get out? *sigh* He’s not stupid, he runs in as soon as he sees that little arm with a fistful of food hanging down.
So I try to wash her hands off since they’ve been dog licked twice now and she throws herself back in the highchair. WHAT THE…….
I sit down again and am keeping an eye on her, watching her eat. And wouldn’t you know it. The Man and I both see it in her eyes, that look of mischief in a 10 month old? I’m amazed, I’m in awe, and I watch as she looks back at me and leans over the side of the highchair and in runs the dog to lick the handful of food out of The Baby’s hand!
She knows she isn’t suppose to do that, yet she’s daring me??? Daring US??? To say no? OMG… so dinner time is over for this little girl who is becoming the carbon copy of her mother, The Punk.
I’m tired and it’s only 6pm.
Two more days, two more days, two more days……
3 comments:
This all SO serves you right.
You know this.....right?
It so does not, I already did the bad baby stint!
It does serve you right Miss Pee. The Punk did this with Yogi the dog every time she was at our house. It was cool to watch her learn object permanence while feeding the dog.
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