It started out okay. He was so hungry that he kept perfectly still and eagerly opened his mouth for a new bite as soon as I finished feeding him the first one. There was a part of my brain that told me it wouldn’t last. “Take him out!” the coherent part of my brain said to me. “It won’t last!”
But my foggy soggy pre-coffee morning brain argued back, “That’s too much work. Look, he’s fine.”
When he started bouncing, believe it or not, I kept feeding him. He’d bounce a few times, then pause as I gave him another bite, at which point the bouncing would resume.
Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. I wasn’t even watching him – just scraping the sides of the cup to feed him more of his breakfast mush. Then, I’d hold the spoon out and say, “Want some more? Here’s some more food?”
The bouncing would stop momentarily, then resume again with even more vigor.
When he’d eaten nearly all the food I’d prepared, I looked at him to see how he was doing, and saw, as if for the first time, what I’d created.
Food was everywhere. All over Joshua’s face, hands, up his nose, even in his eye. It covered his toys, his clothing, and the bouncy chair.
I gaped at him with an open mouth for a moment, then I started to laugh.
Joshua smiled back at me and bounced even more vigorously.
I laughed and laughed as he bounced and bounced.
Not the most brilliant parenting move, but certainly a memorable one!