Bracing Myself

My son’s new thing is to toss his left over food off the side of his high chair at the completion of each meal. This is surely a rite of passage for every new toddler. Details are hazy, but I’m positive my daughter must have done the same thing. I’m not so sure, however, that she did it with as much…gusto. If I’m not in the immediate vicinity and he has time, he will drop pieces one by one and watch them fall. If I’ve got a little more of my A game going and I present myself front and station before his chair, poised to clear the tray of food, he starts flailing his arms wildly, sending bits of meat and vegetables sailing to the carpet below in various directions.

Last night it was pizza. Clearly, my head was not in the game, as I looked over at him and realized about 10 pieces of pizza were grouped on the carpet as he leaned over the side of his chair. These were calculated drops. I ran over to pick up the pieces (thinking to myself…”how far past the 6 second rule have we come here”) that were supposed to be leftovers for lunch the next day. As I picked up and examined the specimens for ware, I felt something light, yet significant enough to notice, hit the top of my head. My darling little boy in perfect aim was dropping more pizza on my noggin. OK, note to self: Clear the tray before picking up the food on the floor.

I tried to stop laughing long enough to give him a stern “Dominic No!” in response to this personal affront to myself and my leftovers. His response drew a little shock and awe. He bared his lower teeth to his top lip and started huffing in and out at me. His very first display of ‘tude! And so it begins.