Do You Smell Vegetables? I'm Sure Lula Does.

Lula can be a joy to feed. She eats a healthy portion, opening wide each time you get close to her with a full spoon.


Or, she’s a total pain in the neck.

Food In Mouth-Hole NOW!
Sometimes I am far too slow when fixing Princess’s meal, and in the half-minute it takes for me to stir her cereal she goes from reasonably hungry to flipping starving. She arches her back and squeals, blocking each stab of the spoon with her panicked flailing.

I Hate Peas. Or Applesauce. And Sweet Potatoes. Or Maybe I Love Them All.
Sometimes I have the nerve to prepare Her Majesty a food she does not care for. Just because she ate two servings of squash and corn three days ago does not mean she likes squash and corn. Oh no, it does not. She clamps her mouth shut, sometimes even smiling at me with a tight, closed-lip grin.

Past the Goalie! Score!
Sometimes, despite her protestations, I can slip a spoonful of whatever into her mouth when she lets her guard down. You can usually tell what “whatever” was by the spatter pattern it creates on my shirt immediately after I sneak it in. She’s got a fairly good range as a spitter.

Faster, Peasant! Faster!
Sometimes I’m just too slow on the spoon. During my foolishly long pauses (I would argue that it takes a fraction of a second to dip the now-empty spoon into the baby food to reload it. Lula believes this is folly and I am just dawdling), Lula will open her mouth wide even though there is no food in the vicinity of her face. She often accompanies the fully open mouth with a scowl, just to let me know she has noted my laziness.

The Prize Fighter
Sometimes Lula presents a moving target. She will shake her head back and forth or rock from side to side or otherwise juke, jive, bob and weave her way through a meal. This is why she often has food in her ear.

Screaming the Scream of a Thousand Banshees
Lula likes to scream. It can almost be mistaken for a happy noise, but I am quite certain it is not. If she does this at mealtime, at least she’s giving me an open mouth to shovel food into. She’ll quiet down while swallowing, then immediately scream away again.


Perhaps her teeth hurt. Maybe the food is the wrong temperature. Maybe she doesn’t want what I’m serving. Maybe she’s too hungry. Maybe she’s not hungry enough. Maybe she wants her bottle.

Who the hell knows, but the screaming is driving me nuts, particularly when she does it in the middle of the damn night. (Say, between the hours of 1:00 and 2:30 am. For example. Ahem.)

Her preschool teacher reported that Lula employed both the Screamer and the Prize Fighter at lunchtime today, which explains why her nose is now full of green beans.


Lumpyhead did much better at school today. He reportedly cried at dropoff, but was not a sodden, tearful wretch at pickup. He still answers the question “What did you do at school today?” with “I cry,” but at least he follows that with “I go playground” and “I play toys.” There’s apparently a truck at school that he fancies. Woo fricken hoo.