We've been having food issues with Phin lately. His molars are coming in, so I have just figured that once they cut through, he'll eat a bit better. I have to admit, however, that I question that assumption regularily. I don't know if he just doesn't like to sit still long enough to eat and if that is the case, should I just leave little piles of food all over the living room? (Wouldn't that make me mom of the year!? I mean who could put up with that nonsense?!) I don't know if he has oral or texture issues because he is forced to take an inhaler every day. In that case, would a food therapist be in our future. His eating isn't something I let myself dwell on or worry about to any extent because the boy could live off his own chub for atleast a year, I'm sure.
Tonight's dinner was initially not unlike any other night. Marc, Ava, and I were trying to eat while juggling encouraging Phin to eat the variety of food offered him. His dissatisfaction with being restrained in the high chair grew and grew as did the volume at with he expressed his dissatifaction. I got him out of the high chair to hold him long enough to finish my food and then planned to put him to bed. He kept attempting to grab my plate. I warded off his attempts about three times before being caught off guard. The little stinker wasn't actually grabbing at my plate- he wanted my chicken.
Turns out, perhaps he doesn't have eating issues after all. Perhaps he is just offended that I cut up his food into bite size peices; he thinks he is pretty big stuff after all. (To our astonishment, he did a great job gnawing on my chicken breast...I guess he'll be one of those kids that always want the chicken leg!)
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