December 02, 2003

Babes in the food

On Sunday we all chilled at Lee and Warren's place, where I got to spend some time with Erynne. It's like every subsequent time I spend with Erynne, she becomes more and more of a little human, eagerly inquisitive about this massive world around her.

For example, we're a talkative bunch. And now Erynne is in the 'discovering voice' phase. And of course, when you discover something new, you use it over and over again (some would say that I'm still discovering my voice, but that would only be if I let them get a word in).

Anyway, I was sitting outside with Warren and Erynne. I was having a cigarette. Erynne was intent on making the task of Warren feeding her as fraught with mess as possible.

All was going surprisingly well (which always bodes ill). I had ensured that I was far enough from Erynne and that the wind was blowing any cigarette smoke away from her. Warren was getting about 2 out of every 3 spoonfuls of food in her mouth. There was minimal food around her lips. It was idyllic.

Then Lee walked out. And things went pear-shaped.

Erynne missed a spoonful. Warren dropped the food on the floor. The wind changed, bringing the rich aroma of Virginian tobacco to within Lee's nostrils. In one fell swoop, the picture changed from innocents feeding innocent, to the "How Not To Do It' section of 'Bring Up Your Child Responsibly'.

We froze. Somewhere a dog barked. Erynne looked charming as always. Warren and I, however, rapidly assumed the guilt-ridden-look of an American President.

"Did you see that?" Warren asked Lee, referring to the food on the ground.

"Yep," she said, as she proferred a mouthful to Erynne. It was refused.

"She's full," Lee pronounced, with the practiced air of a mom.

We breathed a sigh of relief.

  :::  a Erynne ritual performed at 04:05 PM   :::