Finger Pies

At 6 months old, the Spawn has passed many well-known milestones.  In no particular order: she rolls over, crawls, stands with help, smiles and makes eye contact. Recently she began using her fingers to pinch, poke, and prod things.

Okay, poking things isn't on the list like "first smile" or "first step" but it's important.  Right next to bipedalism and lack of cranial ridges, manual dexterity (that amazing opposable thumb) is what separates us from the rest of the apes.  So when she adeptly pinched my nipple between her thumb and index finger, I cried out with pain joy.  

Well, at least there were tears.

She's learned that not only can she experience things by putting them in her mouth, she can also touch and feel them with her fingers.  Usually right before or right after she puts the object in her mouth.  This poking and scratching is how she knows something is real.

But I really wish she'd take things on faith.  Like my aforementioned nipples.  There is no reason to stop mid-nurse to pull back and have a good pinch and prod at my nipples.  That hurts, dammit.  Trust me, kid, the nipples are there, the milk is flowing, you do not need to stop and investigate the process.

She's also discovered that she can poke her finger in my belly button.  This, judging by her laughter, is great fun.  I'm pretty sure I've got to get better at cutting her fingernails.

For a while there, she'd nurse with her hand in her mouth - which, if you've ever tried to drink a milkshake while sucking on your fingers, you'll know is almost impossible and when successful, extraordinarily messy.  Now she puts her fingers in my mouth, because maybe I want something to suck on too.

Being more dexterous has not led to more intelligent use of the fingers, however.  Does she pick her own nose?  Nope, I'm still doing that for her.  Which is probably why she then picks my nose.

You know the saying, "you can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's nose"?  Apparently there is an addendum, "you can't pick your mom, but you can pick your mom's nose."

At some point we'll have to clarify who's nose she should be picking.  And that it's very bad form to pick your mom's nose and then try to stuff that hand into your mom's mouth.  Because I gave up buggers for Lent.

In 1983.

She's also started on "grown up" food.  If grown ups eat spelt porridge and pureed apples.  Does any one else remember baby food being mashed peas OR mashed potatoes OR mashed carrots?  Because last night my child sat down to pureed corn, potatoes, and turkey.  It was a full-on three-course meal inna jar!!

Of course she's gotta help me while she eats it.  She grabs the spoon and helps me bring it to her mouth.  I try my best to keep it upright, because she hasn't quite understood the effect gravity has on semi-solids.  She also has to touch the food.  To feel it and then scoop it off the spoon into her mouth.  Which she then shoves her fingers into.  And tries to swallow.

Try this sometime with mashed potatoes.  Preferably when no one is around and assuredly NEVER in a restaurant on a date.  Trust me, bad plan.  Try to see how far you can shoot your spuds.

And if they land on the table in front of you, go on, give 'em a good slap or two, to speed them on their way.

Oh well, as a wise woman said to me the other day, "you can have a clean baby or a happy baby."

That said, my child is a furiously happy baby!