Too Good to Keep to Myself

I was actually going to blog some about Noah and his growing independence. Today, for example, he is refusing to drink out of his cup and, instead, taking Abbey's and drinking from it while he runs from me. Then I found this article, and thought it conveyed what I wanted to say, but better than I could say it.


A Boy and His Yogurt
by Kristopher Kaiyala

It was one of those nights. The whining, the crying, the persistent standing and staring at the refrigerator—I’d had enough. So I caved. I gave my son the yogurt. Green yogurt, to be precise.

My resolve to keep him from his favorite dairy product had nothing to do with diet and everything to do with his desire to spoon it out of the container all by himself. At 18 months old, he's developed a taste for the flavor of key lime pie and the desire for a little autonomy.

Being home with him most of the time, it's not as if I don't already spend half my days cleaning. Keeping the spoon and the yogurt in separate hands was my selfish way of drawing the line—No More Messes. The problem was he'd grown stubborn and refused my offer to spoon-feed it to him. It was mano a mano, my son and me, and we'd come to a rather noisy impasse.

So I relented and decided to give him a chance. Just him and the six-ounce container of yogurt, in the high chair, with no interruptions from dad.

The first minute went rather well; the spoon made it into the mouth on most attempts. But then the yogurt hit the fan (almost literally). The spoon soon forgotten, he began shoveling yogurt into his mouth two handfuls at a time. Shortly thereafter, his arms and face were plastered in green. I lost sight of his eyebrows. His shirt, the eating tray, the floor—all part of the playing field. With his final two scoops of yogurt he decided to style his hair.

I gave him a warm shower and put him in bed. I think the whole experience made for some of the best minutes of his young life.