As they bike away to school on the first cool morning in what feels like forever.

HARRISON (yelling back to Marc while they ride): “This feels good on my back!” “I’m wearing a sweatshirt! This feels niiiiice!”

HARRISON to Josh, his teacher, as they arrive: “JOSH! I’m wearing a SWEAT-SHIRT!”

Pretty exciting times over here.

—

HARRISON: “This is difficult.”

As he attempts and fails to put a lego rocket ship back together.

—

ME: “Does anybody want dessert?”

Directing my question to the adults at the table – Uncle Jeff and cousin Mitsi, whom Harrison and I had dinner with last night in honor of our visiting cousin.

HARRISON: “ZERT! ZERT! I want zert!!!”

ME: “Harrison – it’s De-zert. And no, I think you have a full belly.”

HARRISON: “No full belly. I want ZERT!” …making sure that the cute waitress can hear his plea for sustenance and his mother’s obvious disregard for his health.

Much to Harrison’s satisfaction his plan worked – the waitress returns to the table with 2 maraschino cherries on a cocktail napkin – a dessert fit for a toddler-king… his first ever experience with the sulfur-dioxide+red-die#40-food-of-the-Gods. Seriously – these little morsels now absolutely disgust me, but, growing up maraschino cherries were the epitome of fine dining for me. I judged a restaurants quality based on the number of free cherries that the waitstaff would bring me – extra points if they came before the meal. So, it’s hard for me to imagine keeping that from H even though they are pretty much as far from actual food as you can get.

ME: ”What does that taste like?”

HARRISON: …silence… followed by 5 minutes of spazzed-out running back and forth between me and Uncle Jeff in the booth:

—

ME: “Mitsi has to go home after we get back to our house.” …driving home with Mitsi from dinner last night.

HARRISON: “I miss you Mitsi.”

MITSI (a little bit jaded – been around/been auntie to/worked with tons of kids – heard it all/seen it all): “OK, now, THAT is cute.”

The kid is a charmer – he’s his father’s son. There aren’t many who can resist.

Listening: M Ward

Marc got carried away and covered an entire piece of pineapple with hot sauce and let H throw the whole thing back – all the while, boasting how “This kid can eat hotter food than his Grandpa!”… when all of a sudden Harrison’s face went pale. He looked at us, stunned for a second. Then started scratching at his tongue while his eyes watered.

I guess we reached his limit.

At this point, let me recall an exchange between Harrison and me from before dinner.

While I was preparing our food, Harrison spied some juice boxes in the fridge that were left over from his party. And with the 2-year-old birthday-entitlement still enveloping his little brain. He demanded that he get one. Then he cried and threw a fit – and not even a good fit – it was totally weak. Kid – you’re going to have to do way better than that if you’re going to get me to bow to your whims. So, I calmly explained to him that “those were left over from his party and that they were for emergencies only.”

To which he softly replied, “Emergency now.”

At which point I smiled and said, “You are very smart – and manipulative – but, no, now is not an emergency.”

OK – back to the hot sauce burning a hole through my kid’s tongue.

Milk! We need milk to extinguish the blaze. I run to the fridge and as I reach for the straw-cup I see something better… a way to put out the fire and simultaneously make his whole freaking day by spoiling him rotten without giving in to his mediocre two-year-old tantrums… juice box!

I yell over to H, “It’s an emergency! It’s an emergency!” and I hand him the sugary-goodness.

After guzzling half of it he takes a breath and says, “…saves the day.”

Listening: Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros

The phrase “thank you” has been a hurdle to overcome. And he actually JUST started saying it correctly this week. And while I was only very mildly concerned about the fact that he could never say “thank you” (it was always “PeeKee” or PeeBee, PeeMee, PeePee, MeeMoo, MeePee instead of anything sounding even remotely like the phrase he was attempting to communicate) I did think that this was odd.

And now, I so completely miss it.

Listening: The Morning Benders (man, that is a pretty song – can’t stop listening)

And Kylie & Jeff – I promise we will vacuum the carpet before you get back!

Listening: Lightning Dust

H’s first sandwich!

I can’t explain the excitement I felt about this… and why it took me so long to try it out with him. I suppose I was afraid he wouldn’t know what to do with it, pull it apart, rub the contents all over the table and then throw it on the floor… Like I was talking about some kind of little baby! H is a full-blown toddler who not only knew what to do with the sandwich, but, LOVED it!

There was an incredible freedom seeing him feed himself his entire meal. By himself. No spoons. No mess. This one was refried beans and shredded cheese on wheat bread (which I had totally forgotten about, because we have now moved on to tuna & chicken salad, shredded veggie-cream-cheese & peanut butter and jelly sandwiches – but, I must remember to resurrect the original – the bean-cheese-wich).

And just in case you haven’t seen enough small humans eating today – here’s a moving picture of H… EATING A SANDWICH.

I know, I know – engrossing subject matter, stunning cinematography. This is truly worth clogging up the internet for.

Listening: Deerhunter

I LOVE THIS!

Now, I am not a proponent of overly-produced food (chicken nuggets shaped liked dinosaurs or even “shaped” like chicken parts for that matter). Food manufacturers are under the impression that kids don’t like food – real food – and that they must be tricked into eating it. This is simply not true.

We have a healthy love for food in this house (I’m not sure if you’ve noticed), but, I think it’s that passion that has translated into a good eater for a son – that and luck. So, we don’t really have the need – yet – to “trick” our kid into eating his dinner, but, these bento boxes are just so freaking cute! I have, in my own way, always attempted to make H’s meals appear nice – good mix of colors, textures, tastes; and to try to arrange them in an appealing manner. Here’s a photo of last nights meal:

(tilapia, green beans, carrots, avocado, cheese, wheat pasta, blueberries) – this was taken after he had eaten some and um… he ate ALL of that – insane!

But, that is nothing compared to this:

(Top Tier: Roast Chicken & Lingonberry sauce
Bottom Tier: Mashed Potato Balls, Chocolate Pocky & Grapes)

I’m not sure if I can see myself cutting star shapes out of cheese, but, fruit and veggies on skewers – awesome. I think mashed potato balls with sprinkles are undeniably fun. And I may just have to try my hand at the occasional hotdog-octopus.

Listening: School Of Seven Bells

OK, we’ll start with the easy one – Veggie Wash – we became addicted to this when Wholefoods started pushing it to big-veggie-purchasers in their store – we got a couple free bottles and have used it ever since. I’m not sure why I assumed that this was a product that wouldn’t be available in California. As if we are traveling to some far off land, where we would be without proper sanitation.

Cutting boards – this makes perfect sense to me. Have you ever tried to chop on broke-ass, plastic cutting boards that are a thousand years old, pock-marked and indented with years of use as a machete-throwing target? TERRIBLE!

Knives. I used to make fun of Marc for this. Since I’ve known the guy, he has carried around his own leather knife bag. And when we choose not to bring it with us on short trips, he always kicks himself when he is forced to chop with a sub-par substitute for his preferred blades. But, I have always been sensible – it’s just a knife! Come on, it’s not that bad. Now, get back to cooking our dinner! However, I have taken over the role of primary meal-preparer. And since we have a small human to provide for, the chopping has, at the very least, doubled. So, I am now, faced with the dilemma: recant my statements about Marc’s aforementioned silliness and pack up the knives for a little 2-month trip or deal with the possibility of chopping all of our veggies with what could be a butter knife.

This “packing list” is just a blip on the ridiculousness that has become my cooking. Last night, while preparing a simple leftover-chicken-pasta dish for the boy I added duck fat – yes, you read right – DUCK FAT – to finish the sauce. A good heaping teaspoon of it. First of all, I’m pretty sure DUCK FAT is not on our doctor’s list of healthy foods for your toddler to eat. Secondly, that stuff is expensive! So, what the hell am I doing wasting it on a child who clearly has no taste buds!

Or maybe, just maybe, we really are nurturing his love of food and he will never develop a taste for the evils that lurk in our grocery stores.

I suppose we will have to side with Anthony Bourdain on this and feed our kid as we would wish to be fed.

Listening: Phoenix

“Practice Laying Down”

“Evidence that the kid will eat ANYTHING!”

Listening: Happy Little Vegemites (this one’s for you mum!)

Let me start by saying we had a fantastic weekend. We went out to dinner with Kourtney & Patrick (the other half of the nanny-share alliance) at Olivia and had a great meal with exceptional wine (I think we will call Patrick from now on to ask what we should drink with every meal) and wonderful conversation. Saturday we ventured out into the land of the hippies for Eeyore’s Birthday to see The Nesbitts and had a blast.

Although James was unsure of Harrison and appalled when H wanted to touch his sunglasses. Rightly so little man – stand your ground! That kid is trying to steal mine all the time!

We all crashed out for a two-hour nap when we got home. Then we met up with the Nesbitts again for Lucky J’s Chicken and Waffles. Their tagline is “Chicken for Strength. Waffles for Speed.” I have no idea what that means and can’t say that I feel stronger post-chicken and can attest to feeling the opposite of speedy, but, it was delicious nonetheless. Sunday morning we took a walk down to South Congress for lunch

and then hit up the park on our way home.

We all crashed out again then headed to Wholefoods to stock up on food for the week. Armed with a list of meals I wanted to prepare and a subsequent list of ingredients we piled food into the cart and then the car and almost completely avoided a baby-meltdown (he can now turn the upper half of his body 180 degrees and reach any items that are placed within a couple feet of him. He will attempt and more often than not succeed in picking up and gnawing on anything, including, but not limited to: a 5 pound bag of potatoes, a honeydew melon, lemons, fennel stems and leaves, loaves of bread, bottles of wine and when said items are taken away the kid is less than amused. So, we must now, shop armed with O’s… and lots of them.).

So, grocery shopping is getting a bit more difficult which may have gotten me flustered. But, from then on the night totally sucked.

While putting away the groceries I attempted to make macaroni and cheese. I failed. How on earth does a person screw up macaroni & cheese!? The failure to produce a meal that is so simple most five year olds can accomplish it was compounded by the fact that I had also added zucchini and squash and spinach. All of the time it took to chop all of that extra stuff meant that not only was it 7pm and the kid was WAAAAAAAAHUNGRYWAAAAAAAA and he had no dinner, but, it also meant that I had wasted all of that food. I had no choice but, to feed the kid two of the last few packets of baby food we have and some honeydew which Marc helped chop up. The macaroni and cheese debacle had infected my mood so I yelled – yes yelled – at Marc for chopping the honeydew too big. Because that’s an issue that really needs a fight. uh huh. You may start to see where this is going.

I also had grand delusions of making Marc and I a lovely meal of fennel risotto and scallops – you know – while I put away the groceries, make the kid dinner and cleaned up the kitchen. I must have still been high from second-hand-whatever from Eeyore’s Birthday.

It wasn’t until Marc told me to grab a glass of wine and sit down with him and the kid and demanded that I NOT make dinner for us that I was able to relax a bit. But, stopping to look around at the disastrous kitchen and dining room that we were unable to pickup because of our fun-packed weekend – I started to feel ill and got up to clean, grabbing a few pieces of melon from the floor, throwing them into the sink and mumbling with force “why am I the only one picking up the crap off the floor!?”. Yet again an attempt to pick a fight with my ever-loving husband. Luckily he is smarter than I and didn’t fall for it.

While doing the dishes from the failed macaroni I jammed my middle finger into the dishwasher. The shard of metal masquerading as a dishwasher-door-lock stabbed me under the fingernail. I jumped around and started a four-letter-exclamation but, stopped myself; looked at H; smiled and said “It’s okaaaaaaaay!” in a syrupy, sweet high-pitched voice to try spare him my agony and keep him from breaking down which he does at the mere spark of sadness or fear from me.

While Marc bathed the kid I made a left-over pork plus veg dinner for us and after the kid was asleep we sat down to try to enjoy a minute alone to try to calm down. I took a sip of wine and felt a flutter on my lips – there was a FLY in my wine! I spat out what was in my mouth and thankfully, rightly new that the evening could not get any worse. Marc quickly took the offending glass away, poured the interloper down the drain and ran the disposal – to ensure a most-painful death then poured me another and then another.

The kid slept through the night until 7am, making for a spectacular morning. So, all is now well.

Listening: The Horrors (fitting band name)

Listening: The Avett Brothers