The importance of tradition

After a very mild summer, which I am not complaining about at all, we have finally hit the harvest portion of September, which has always been my very favorite part of any season.

The market is booming with delicious produce of all kinds, it’s not too hot to get after it in the kitchen (honestly, it’s been a grilled meat and salad kind of summer, so I’m a little rusty around my own stove), and this year, it’s the month that Boo really gets to try out eating solids.

Which means my fruit budget is sky high and I’m finally getting some use out of my immersion blender.

We started Boo on oatmeal, with first parent intentions of only giving him one food for three days in a row to assess allergies before moving onto the next perfectly pureed food selection.

Then, on the second day of solid food eating, I turned my back for one second, and when I turned back, my son was gnawing on a pork chop bone.

Yes, that’s correct.

This was one of my husband’s first foods, and apparently, he decided it was a family tradition.

I was horrified for an instant, but then mentally gave up the whole process and timeline, and laughed while JW fed T tiny pieces of pork and my sweet baby giggled his head off.

Laughing his head off was nowhere near his reaction to eating plain oatmeal.

Not that I can blame him.

Since that time, we’ve fed the little guy zucchini, nectarines, yogurt, apricots, avocados, cheese grits (don’t even ask), and sourdough bread. I’m on a mission to get him up and over 13 lbs, because he has decided he’s only interested in being peanut-sized, and so I figure carbs and cheese in excess won’t hurt him the way it hurts me.

How I wish I was in his shoes.

Or bare feet, as it was.

Yet another example of my parenting at its finest, but you guys, we all turned out okay, despite the pork chops, formula, questionable food choices,belly sleeping, crib bumpers, and other now-forbidden practices of our times.

Keep it easy, chickadees, it’s the only way to do it.

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