NOTE: THIS BLOG IS BY GUEST WRITER, SILVIA ROSE ZUMACH, AGE EIGHT MONTHS
My favorite eating utensil is a spoon ... although I have to admit my experience with the others - forks and knives - is limited to just a few seconds. I've picked the others up, brought them to my mouth, but then they quickly disappear. I wonder what that's all about.
I look around and see others using those long and pointy utensils. They look like fun. But at least I have my spoon ... and it satisfies me. I like the soothing sensation against those irritating, hard, pointy things I feel in my mouth. Maybe I'm growing my own internal utensils. Mom says, "Just you wait, Silvie. They're coming."
Mind you, I'm not complaining about spoons. They say "Don't bite the utensils that feed you." The spoon that feeds me is actually a smaller, more plasticky feeling thing. What Mom and Dad call cereal is pretty good. When they squirt colored stuff from a tube on top the cereal, I get what they call a "new taste sensation." I've heard the squirty stuff called prunes, broccoli, and other words new to me. This stuff makes the muscles on my face move in strange, wiggly ways, my tongue moves in and out, and my eyes feel squinty. Do I like these sensations? The jury is still out.
Though, when I'm being fed, I do like the way everyone at the table smiles and laughs and says my name ... although I don't understand much else of what they are saying. A string of words that I've heard repeated, perhaps dozens of times when my face strangely squiggles, is "Silvia, vegetables are good for you." Whatever! Are those french fries that Dad's eating vegetables?
This is my Auntie Elizabeth. She says that in a few years I'll be able to eat anything I want off that piece of paper she has in her hand. The food pictures are pretty, but will I like paper?