Lean, Mean, Weaning Machine

I would consider this as a ‘part 2’ to my initial Weaning post. An update, if you will.

Since the initial success with operation sweet potato, my son has decided that no, this food phase is simply not for him, and that he would be much happier breastfeeding until he’s around 13.

Since my last post, he has now tried,  with varying degrees of failure:

I wasn’t here for this, but I visited the dining room afterwards, and the large floret presence on and around the table led me to assume it didn’t go well.

Just a step down from toast, I thought. He likes toast, bread isn’t any different, I thought. You thought wrong, my son tells me with his eyes.

Trying to return to our roots of the week before. I thought success had happened again when half of a toast soldier had disappeared. Joy turned to frustration when said soldier half was discovered held between toes. I don’t think son was aware of this.

I hate pears, but was willing to ignore the animosity to let him try it. Even ate slice of pear in front of him in the most over the top, animated style possible so he’d understand what to do with the damn thing. The result was a largely untouched pile of sliced pear, with one broken in half, almost as a protest of sorts.

Loading a spoon with natural yoghurt, Ned proceeded but put every part of the spoon into his mouth apart from the area the yoghurt was on. On finally getting some in his mouth, his face crinkled in the style of someone who’d smelt a fart in an elevator.

Baby led weaning is HARD – the urge to reach across and just shove bread down his mouth because he’s ‘nearly’ there is overwhelming at times, but we’ll persist, eventually he’ll get on with it. This morning, for example, he actually put some toast in his mouth for 0.3 seconds becore dropping it on the floor.

So, leaps and bounds.


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