Food on the Fork, Floor, and Forehead

Three times a day Mimi and I gather round the kitchen table for a meal.  This makes for 21 meals a week, 90 meals per month.  And with all this practice, as well as excellently modeled dining behavior by yours truly, Mimi still seems to think that food belongs anywhere but her plate. 

Before each meal I chop up whatever we're having into "Mimi pieces."  This makes it easier for her to fling them into those hard-to-reach corners under the fridge and table.  From there the bib goes on, and is then immediately removed.  This process is repeated ad nauseam because I have yet to find bibs that fasten like handcuffs.  Eventually Mimi is placed in her highchair and the tray, laden with food, is snapped into place. 

We generally warm up with finger foods.  These can range from chicken nuggets to bread to spaghetti.  Often, this first course is a tamer version of whatever I'm having.  When it comes to finger foods, Mimi has two eating styles.  The first I call "finicky mouse."  She'll seek out the tiniest piece on her plate, grasp it between her thumb and forefinger, hold it aloft in triumph, and then proceed to take multiple infinitesimal nibbles.  This style is contrasted by the "famished python."  Mimi gathers at least half of the food on her plate in both hands, mashes it into a hearty paste, dislocates her lower jaw, and shoves the mound, now roughly the size of a small badger and seeming to struggle just as violently, into her mouth.  Her hands then ball into fists to beat the oversized bite into submission and down her throat. 

Once the finger food session begins, I have about 3 solid minutes to prepare the next round - the utensil course.

Sometimes the utensils, a fork and spoon, appear with a bowl of yogurt or applesauce.  Usually, though, they come out once Mimi loses interest.  With a fork and spoon in hand food that had been tossed aside only seconds before becomes irresistibly appetizing.  It's almost magic, really. 

It's taken a few weeks, but Mimi's really starting to get the hang of her spoon.  Today she'd refused to touch her mac and cheese, but once she had that spoon, she went to town. 

With food on the spoon Mimi then uses a two-pronged attack to ensure that each morsel makes it into her mouth.

Partway through this stage she'll generally ask for some juice to clean her palate.

On good days the meal's over when Mimi starts eating the spoon rather than eating with it.  Today was a good day.  On bad ones, Mimi tosses her plate to the floor then rubs her filthy hands into her hair.  I'm not quite sure how she knows exactly what not to do.  Perhaps kids just come programmed that way. 

Slowly but surely she's becoming a better eater.  I'm looking forward to the day she can tackle a piece of pizza on her own.  What luxury that would be!