Toast

When Neal and I returned from our trip in Ireland and the UK, we both had a new affinity for toast. It seems like each and every morning, the British (and Irish) MUST HAVE TOAST. Regardless of what one orders, whether it be an omelet, oatmeal, fruit, or the full English breakfast equipped with sausage, beans, eggs, hash browns, tomatoes, AND mushrooms, every breakfast must have toast. I even saw people get upset if there was a wait on the toast – or as upset as the English can actually get. Toast is simply a staple of the English/Irish breakfast. Without toast, it seems that the day cannot begin. Thus, Neal and I ate toast for breakfast each and every morning of our trip/vacation. Toast with jam. Preferably, strawberry.

When we returned, we continued to eat our daily servings of toast with jam. This time, though, it was raspberry. We offered some to Charlie, who at first shook his head no, as if he did not like it. But, we soon realized that he does that with every new food. It’s his way of saying, “I’m not sure if I like this because I don’t know what it is. Therefore, I’m going to make you think I don’t like it by shaking my head. And then, if I do in fact like it, I will open my mouth wide and make noise until you plug it up with that food stuff that I actually like.” This was our experience with toast.

Initially, he didn’t seem too thrilled by it. He shook his head, and we didn’t force any more toast into him. The next day, we tried again, and he enjoyed sucking the sticky raspberry jam off of the toasted brown bread. Yum! Sweets for breakfast! And further on, he has gradually come to take full bites of toast with jam, often taking an enormous bite, smearing jam all over his cute chubby cheeks.

So now, each morning, Neal prepares a ½ slice of toast with jam for our little Charles, and for the most part, he gobbles it up. The funniest thing about this new morning ritual is the combination of Charlie’s scooting and toast munching. Neal gives Charlie a nibble, rather a chunk, of toast. Charlie mushes it around in his mouth while he scoots around the den and kitchen. He chews and chews with full cheeks while chasing the dogs, loving on the vacuum cleaner (this is another post), clapping his hands, and attempting to check out the contents of the garbage can. Then he scoots right back to Neal, looks up at him, and opens his mouth wide, demanding another sticky, jammy bite. Once he gets a sufficient mouthful, the process starts again until he’s either finished with the toast or just ready to move on to another exciting item of food.

By the way, we finally have Charlie weaned off the bottle! We decided to wait until we got back from our trip (under the idiotic assumption that he would go with us, and continuing with the bottle would help travel be more comfortable for all of us). So, a week after our return, we gradually started taking them away, and this past weekend, he had his last bottle. I really thought it would be more difficult than it was, but he has coped quite well and it’s almost as if he has forgotten about the bottle completely. I did make the mistake of looking at a parenting magazine with him the other day (we were looking at pictures of babies and pointing out the parts of their faces) and we came upon an ad with a baby holding a bottle. This made Charlie a little fussy, but we quickly averted his attention with one of his favorite books that moos.