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Lately I feel like I have a big internal debate. It's like a fight between good and evil, but more than walking around the house and, how could it be otherwise, starring my 16-month-old daughter. I am aware that the girl in question is getting older and demands more and more independence ... but it is not that. It's not that I don't want him to grow up, it's that getting older is very unhygienic.
My little girl is not a very binge eater, but she enjoys food; not eating it, but with it in your hands. It has been many months since he began to chew the same tiny pieces of ham that are scattered in the most hidden corners of my kitchen. And there is my debate: the girl wants to take charge of the feeding and the mother wants to keep her home fairly decent.
It all started with the first chewing tests. It didn't matter what was on the plate, it didn't matter how carefully and tenderly you had chopped the turkey breast into tiny granules, the rice was the same as the shredded fish… the plate was a feast. The baby's hands, hair, pajamas have impregnated the entire menu, so much so that it is ready to bathe again. But it is that the dryer, the tiles on the wall, the recesses of the high chair and even the coffee maker have been coated with all kinds of food.
Then came the story with the water. Good grief, when did we teach her to drink? With the bottle he didn't even smell the water, but since he picked up his glass with handles, not a day has he not put it on him. Of course, you can see his face of pleasure when the cool water comes out of his mouth, how rich but how dangerous in winter, especially when it slides down the neck and soaks the entire body that you have to change when it was about to go to sleep.
And the most recent is the topic of the spoon and yogurt. Although she seems right-handed, she takes the spoon with her left hand and carries it well loaded trying to hit her tiny mouth. I see the process, as in slow motion: how the bulk of the load from the spoon slowly spills out, with such bad luck that it falls on the legs of the high chair to end up on the floor, not before having left its mark in the girl's sweater and, often, in the mother's.
I am considering putting on a diving suit at lunchtime and thus be safe from the edible attacks of Ane, who has more and more desires to use all the kitchen utensils, including knives. The point is, I give up. With how cute my girl was when she did not drink a drop of water and her mother gave her a snack and dinner without staining her bib. You will have to sacrifice for the good of the cause, buy plenty of washing machine soap and let her experiment, even if the steam cleaner has to come after to fix the mess. How dirty is getting older ...
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