Royale with Cheese

Well we can all rest easy now...Kiernan likes cheese.

The big developement in Kiernan's life this week has to do with food. We've been wanting to graduate him to more finger foods for some time now. He's been doing quite well with baby food, but we both felt it was time we exposed him to more of the foods we eat. To that end, this past weekend, Wendy gave him his first egg.

Egg yolk actually. His doctor said we could start him with egg yolk (cooked, of course), and if he took to that without any troubles we could try him on some scrambled eggs in a couple weeks. Apparently you're supposed to introduce yolks only at first because there is more chance a child will have an allergic reaction to egg whites. The doctor suggested we try a hard-boiled egg first, but as we didn't have any hard-boiled eggs lying around the house, we went ahead and just fried up an egg instead. Then we cut the yolk into little bite-sized pieces and let Kiernan go to work on it. He played with it for awhile, smearing it around on his table and dropping it to the floor. What he ate of it, that first time, he really seemed to like. He's liked it more with each successive trial.

A word here about hard-boiled eggs, then. I mentioned above that the doctor suggested we give him a hard-boiled egg first, then I said we fried one up instead. Since that day we've given him eggs every day. Fried every time. Fried is just easier. Also, there is the fact that I have this little thing about hard-boiled eggs. I fear them. I should clarify. I actually like eating hard-boiled eggs quite a bit. I'm nuts for egg salad sandwiches, and I go crazy for a good deviled egg. So I guess I'm not so much afraid of hard-boiled eggs as I am afraid of cooking them. Me, the fella who is generally in charge of the family cooking and who for the last few years has been responsible for cooking the turkey for holiday meals, has an egg boiling phobia.

I really don't know why this is. Maybe it's just the mystery of the package that is the egg. It's so intimidating. With most other foods there is a way to tell whether that food is done. You can poke it, or prod it, or stick a thermometer in it. But it has always seemed to me that with an egg you're flying blind. If you haven't cooked it enough, and you open it, you can't shove it back in the shell and boil it some more. You're stuck with a soft-boiled egg. Not so bad in and of itself, but not what you were looking for going in, and certainly no good for a baby. If you cook it too much, it turns all green and nasty. Frying is so much easier because you can see the whole process right there.

I suppose I have to get over this now that my son is such a fan of eggs. He's growing. I'm growing.

In addition to eggs, this week Kiernan has had bits of lunch meat, bits of fresh cantaloupe, bits of watermelon, bits of bread (wheat bread), some banana, and some cheese. He also shared an apple with his mom (pictured). Almost without fail he has tried everything and liked it okay at first, then really liked it more the second time, then liked it even more after it had been retrieved from the floor. Somehow everything tastes better if it comes off the floor. The kid can totally finish with a meal, knocking your hand away to insist that he is done eating, then when he gets down from his seat he'll still eat everything in sight, food or not. String. Pieces of straw tracked in from outside. The cat. I mean, I know that tasting is just another way he is exploring his world, but does everything have to go in the mouth?

The answer is yes. I'm vacuuming much more these days in an effort to keep the straw I find in his diaper to a minimum. The ironic thing is I have to vacuum far less, in reality, because he's picking the floor clean so effectively.

Anyway, so far the food thing is going along nicely. Mealtimes have started to become more pleasant now that he is feeding himself, even if a lot of that includes playing with his food. When we were just spooning baby food into him he was still a good eater, but had to be entertained a incessantly. He'd grow bored with the meal and we would have to parade a variety of things past him to entertain him. Spoons for him to play with and tupperware containers for him to hide behind as we smuggled green beans into his mouth. Now that he's got all this food to occupy his hands he seems to be enjoying mealtime. Watching him sample and explore his world through food makes feeding more fun for us, as well.

Plus, as I said before, he likes cheese. This is a big deal around here. Many people were nervous about this as his mother is something of a picky eater, and does not like cheese. She makes an exception where pizza is concerned, but sadly you'll never see extra cheese as a topping in our house. Now that I've got another cheese eater in the house, however, all this is going to change. It's going to be a nonstop cheese fest, with cheese and fruit after dinner and cheese fondue at every meal. Sure, I'll weigh five hundred pounds, but at least I'll have cheese back in my life again in a meaningful and legally binding way.

I can't wait to see if he likes tomatoes, peppers and sour cream. I haven't been inside a decent Mexican restaurant in twelve years.