Raising a kid and going to WDW. A lot.

The Weekly Peanut, Issue 23

The Weekly Peanut, Issue 23

Daphne is making a fascinating leap in her development: cause/effect and how this can create a sequence of events. She's also starting to mimic our actions, even to go so far as "pretend" play.  We'd  made some attempts in the past at letting Daphne use utensils with pretty limited success, so in the interest of NOT HAVING THINGS FLUNG ON THE GROUND, we'd put utensils on the backburner in favor of just letting the kid use her hands.  Late last week, Daphne grabbed an empty snack bowl off the floor, found a discarded spoon (your guess is as good as mine on that one) and made a big show of swaggering around the room, dipping the spoon into the bowl and swishing it around before bringing it up to her mouth.


Perhaps I should have taken the hint. A couple of evenings ago, Ian was coming home late with carryout dinner since I hadn't had time to go grocery shopping yet, late as in after D's bedtime. What's this mean? Scrounging up a dinner for D out of whatever's in the fridge/pantry.  Often on the weekend for breakfasts, Ian will do a yogurt/cereal/fruit combo with D, so I decided to make that happen.   

Now, something needs to be said here.  I. HATE. YOGURT. (Rick Moranis Spaceballs voice) In all seriousness, I cannot abide shared space with that dairy product.  This has been the case my entire life.  I'm not talking about "frozen yogurt" (the name we've given to soft serve ice cream to somehow convince ourselves that it's good for us), but the ACTUALLY good for you stuff that's chock full of protein and probiotics.  It's the smell.  It triggers my gag reflex.  It smells WRONG. Anytime Ian feeds Daphne or himself yogurt, I have to be a minimum of six feet away or I start to RETCH.  I've recently discovered that greek yogurt is an exception: while I still can't eat it, it smells more like sour cream than yogurt so as long as it's not all up in my grill, I can tolerate being close to it.   

Back to the story: I bravely stirred up some greek yogurt, wheat puffs, and blueberries and walked Daphne into the living room to feed her dinner.  She was being a huge pain, groaning and screeching and generally not cooperating with the process.  She wrapped her hand around the spoon and flung YOGURT (ungggghhhh) and half a blueberry onto her forehead.  FINE, KID! FEED YOURSELF THEN, AND GOOD FRICKIN' LUCK! So I held the bowl and desperately tried to keep her hand out of it, while she dipped her spoon from the bowl to her mouth.  It wasn't neat, it wasn't pretty, but... it worked.  She eventually polished off the bowl (while I sacrificed myself on the altar of EWWW and only dry heaved twice at the yogurt that covered my left arm and both legs) just using the spoon.  Hot damn! Way to go, kid!

Also in FOOD news: we have officially exhausted our breast milk stores and Daphne is strictly taking cow's milk with her to day care. Miss Kiki says D is also taking the milk from the sippy cup and not the bottle.  Wow, kid.  I've also beem packing a lunch for the kid. 


That's pulled rotisserie chicken (her favorite), sweet potato, cheese, and raspberries.  She always scarfs the chicken.  SHE LOVES THE DAMN CHICKEN.  When I buy a rotisserie chicken and bring it home to pull it apart for us to use in her lunches and some salads, she will stand next to me in the kitchen and SCREAM for pieces of chicken (a la Cartman on South Park in the Dog Whisperer episode).  She is no longer on the "I will eat anything" train. If it's a carb or protein, she'll probably eat it? Otherwise... Meh.  Raspberries were a no-go, so we switched to blueberries, and I'm told those are going over better. 

Gone are the days of onesies every day: D is now wearing OUTFITS.  Including some sassy, witty Tees.  


Miss Kiki says she's also tearing up the sidewalk at daycare in her little coupe.  Vroom Vroom. I love that day care sends me pictures. 


On Saturday we had a super-fun girls date with Katy & Audrey at Hawkers.  Both girls were on their most charming behavior (other than the sippy cup throwing which, honestly, I don't even notice any more). Daphne also got a visit from "Uncle" Mason, had a Sunday Morning Sweet Tomatoes breakfast, and had an all-around fun weekend. 


Wow... I thought this was going to be a short update, and then I actually wrote it.  Go figure.  

The Weekly Peanut, Issue 24

The Weekly Peanut, Issue 24

Blogging.. and stuff..

Blogging.. and stuff..