Eating with a toddler-Dining with Dad

I know we’re feeding Baby Mojo because he’s gaining weight, yet it always seems like most of the food gets on his lap or bib, and then down on the floor where the dogs camp out for table scraps.   During lunch and dinner, I wouldn’t be surprised to see Victoria Stillwell enter and scold me for allowing such slovenly dog behavior to occur. 

We’re thankful that Baby Mojo has stopped the sonic assault when he eats.  Now he’s just entered a slightly picky stage of eating.  As an almost 11 month old toddler he loves anything that he can pick up to eat.  Unfortunately, he’s now trying to eat anything that he can pick up.

“Books are for reading, not for eating”, has become my mantra during the day.  When I’m distracted by shiny objects Baby Mojo will seize the opportunity to grab books or other things and promptly put them in his mouth.  Because we have four pets, animal hair is a constant issue, thus we vacuum many times a week. 

We’ve got a nice vacuum cleaner, but Baby Mojo is better.  He’ll find that lone clump of cat fur that I didn’t run over or he’ll somehow miraculously discover something furry that’s not attached to a critter.  I wouldn’t be surprised to see that British dude from the Dyson commercials ask us if this toddler technology is proprietary or patented.    “Don’t eat that, its fur”, I said in a hurry to him the other day.  Suffice it to say, Baby Mojo may have already eaten his pound of dirt in the ten pounds of pet fur he’s gestated in his scant 11 months here. 

If only he’d take to spaghetti or some other solid food that humans should like.  We’re sure it’s a baby thing and that eventually he’ll come full circle, eating at the dinner table with forks and knives; instead of stalking our animals for their free range dust bunnies. 

At least he may come by it honestly.  Early in life, I like many young men had sketchy dining habits.  While I was traveling I experimented, figured out my comfort zone, went outside and then came back in.

One such experiment was blowfish, the infamous Fugu.  Fugu is poisonous and has enough neurotoxin to kill 30 people.   Eating Fugu is an amazing process as it has to be killed, skinned and then served immediately.  The sushi chefs have to be licensed to serve Fugu, as well as, undergo years of training.  If they serve the wrong part of the fish, then it’s a quick death for the consumer.

In hindsight, not the wisest thing I’ve done-A.  It’s a dangerous meal and B. It cost $250 for me and a friend.  We were living in Japan though and the experience was reason enough to give it a go.  The Fugu really didn’t have a special taste, granted we didn’t die either, so I’ll call it a wash.  Try the octopus; it’s much tastier and much more affordable.

Another questionable dining choice was less avoidable.   Me and a friend were in rural China, I forget the name of the village, but it was about two hours outside of Beijing.  It was this magical little village in the mountains, with lots of temples, old cars and Chinese people. 

We arrived in this village around 10:30 at night in the middle of February, it was bone chilling cold.  Using a phrase book we sorted out a place to sleep that was just down the road.  The inn keeper was really nice, showed us our room, motioned if we were hungry and we immediately said yes. 

She brought in a tray of rice, some deep fried thing and soup.  I don’t know what meat was in the soup, but I don’t think your local humane society would be pleased.  Its texture wasn’t steak, its color wasn’t chicken and I didn’t see an alpaca farm nearby.  We ate ALL of the rice and tried the soup, just to be polite, as the inn keeper was chatting to us, in Chinese.

Hmmm, maybe that last eating experience is why I’m so nice to pets now.