C is For Cookie..That's Good Enough For Me

My menu has definitely improved. Come to find out, I should already be on Stage 3 food, which means that the mush tastes like stuff you can actually recognize as edible. I've got Chicken & Rice mush, I've got Turkey mush, I've got Dutch Apple mush....oh, and I hate every single one of them. I liked Stage 1, and if it was up to me, I'd stay there. I like mushed peas, I like mushed sweet potato, and I like applesauce. Mommy is feeding me Cream of Wheat now mixed in with applesauce or "Hawaiian Delight" (which is my only non-Stage 1 mush I like - though it tastes nothing like a Pina Colada, to the disappointment of all parties involved). I'm still pushing those two teeth out...they are almost all there, but it seems that the only thing being pushed out is spit. I now can push out about a gallon of spit a minute without even trying. I could seriously put out forest fires and refill empty pools in seconds. So, to conclude my "mush" portion of the post - much like when you go to a fancy restaurant and order plain old chicken, I say, "Screw the menu...give me plain mush with a side of applesauce".

Now...on to hard food, which is nearer and dearer to my heart and my tummy. Mommy brought me home some baby cookies. As you can tell by the pictures, I liked them A LOT! Despite the fact that it seems like most of the cookie never made it to my mouth - trust me - it did. I sucked all the sticky gooey wheaty goodness out of those cookies, and they were a welcome relief after the horror that was pink beef mush with pink beef gravy. But the best - and I mean the BEST discovery yet was at this crowded yucky place called "McDonald's". I got my first taste of a french fry. Oh.My.God! Simply the most wonderful invention that you grown-ups have ever made. I sat there and sucked the juice out of them until they crumbled in my mouth. Mommy would then take the mushy one out, and replace it with a brand new one over and over again. When my mouth didn't have a fry in it - I was crying for more. Daddy tried to convince Mommy to put a little ketchup on it, but being the purist that Mom is, she denied me that pleasure. Trust me...the next time it's Daddy and me alone?...it will be SO french fry with ketchup on it. Then just before we left, Mommy used the straw to let me taste a little watered down Coca-Cola. WOW! I almost didn't wet my pants! (You see the irony there? I usually wet my pants, and therefore my shocked reaction would spur the opposite of normal...get it?...aw...forget it!)

Just before the joy of McDonald's, Mommy and Daddy made a feeble attempt at getting my picture taken with my brother at the evil, yet curiously nearby, Wal-Mart. We got there at 12:30, and they couldn't fit us in until 1:30, so we shopped for an hour. Now, for those of you smart Mommies and Daddies, what typically happens when a baby is nice and wide awake at 12:30 and then you wait an hour?....That's right! We get crabby and sleepy! The first picture came out OK...I put on a normal face, because I wasn't about to smile for a woman who wore panty hose underneath her dress pants - especially once I saw that the top of her control-top hose was sticking out above her pant waist. I may have been born without "official" parents or a name, but at least I was born with some basic fashion sense. For that picture, my brother put on a fake smile that wasn't very convincing. I guess telling an 8-year old to look at a stamp-sized picture of Bob the Builder isn't enough motivation to get him to smile for real. The second picture was even worse. I was frowning, and my brother looked dazed. That was it. I'd had it. I wanted my bottle, and within seconds of getting it, I was sound asleep. It's too bad, because I looked really cute in a red Santa dress with a white furry collar and white furry trim on my sleeve ends...oh yeah, and some cool red cottony boots and a Santa hat. Daddy finally figured out that the only way to get my brother to smile was to start pretending that he was going to fart. Had I been awake, I'd have enjoyed that too, as I laugh when other people fart or burp. So my brother finally had a great smile, and I was sound asleep in that picture. The next picture was more of the same, so finally they gave up, and my brother got the rest of the pictures by himself with Daddy pretending to poop on Mommy, fart on the photographer, and making a lot of grunting noises. Mommy was very disappointed that we didn't get any good pictures, but Daddy promised to take some pictures another time with my dress on, in front of the Xmas tree (which is gi-normous and gi-beautiful), and that made her feel better. We were going to go see Santa afterwards, but Mommy & Daddy wisely decided to try that again another time. I can't wait to see Santa...and I guarantee that if he smells like cookies, milk and french fries, I'm going to like him a lot.