Apparently, the adage about how you shouldn't look for love in food doesn't apply to babies, namely, my daughter, Ella.
This morning, though it was too early for her usual bowl of cereal with mashed up fruit and milk, Ella was pointing to the kitchen table and whining. She started doing this a few weeks ago, when she realized we kept her bananas there, as well as her other baby snack items. Unfortunately, this morning, we were completely out of bananas, but Ella spotted something else: banana cookies. And she knows the box all too well.
Banana cookies, for those of you who have not yet experienced these things, are hard, crusty, crescent-shaped teething cookies flavored with banana puree. Ella knows she can't have a cookie without being in her high chair. So, the dance of "cookie love" begins.
I place the high chair in it's usual spot next to my seat and remove the plastic tray. Ella's eyes light up, darting from the kitchen table to the trayless chair, her little feet stomping, and body crouched in anticipation.
I lift her out of her playpen, and she drops whatever toy she has now forgotten about. She giggles wildly and wiggles her little body frantically in my arms as I place her in her chair and attach the tray. Ella now has one focus: cookies!
She watches as I take a cookie out of the package and hand it to her. She runs her beautiful baby blues across the cookie as if it were a gift from the Lord Himself. She then looks at me, the Cookie Giver, as though I have just bestowed upon her the greatest treasure in all the land.
The cookie is gone in approximately 3 minutes.
The dance begins again about an hour later, when, moving on from the banana cookies, Ella spots the saltines. Then, we break out the juice.
Okay, bedtime baby lotion. Seriously. I love the product, I really do. It smells nice, and it really does help Ella to stay asleep longer (if 6:55am is "longer", I have no idea). But, they should really consider refilming the commercial with a 13-month-old.
The sweet little infant would be replaced with a much bigger, and much, MUCH more mobile child, squirming and spinning out of your grasp, while you attempt to pin her to her changing table with one arm and desperately to open the lotion bottle with slippery, yet pleasantly-scented fingers.
Forty-five minutes later, the loving parent is pissed off and sweaty, holding a child who is so greased up with lotion that she has now slipped out of her pajamas and is chewing on the cap of the lotion bottle and making "yucky" faces because...clearly the lotion isn't meant to be ingested.
Just a suggestion :)
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