In your life on this earth, you’ll hear that “some kids were born with silver spoons in their mouths”. What these people mean is that these kids were fortunate enough to have been born into families that didn’t have any money problems, i.e. they were wealthy enough to afford the finer things in life.
You were not born with a silver spoon. Nor a bronze spoon. But we did buy you your very own spoon and fork this weekend. For $1. That’s $0.50 each, if you’re doing the math.
But you know what? You love them. You are independent. In all facets of life, really. But when it comes to eating, we typically give you a voice that one of us interprets and say things like, “Give me that. I’ll do it myself.” And it’s pretty spot on.
So your new fork found its way into enchilada night at the Tremont house. You ate a bite, you threw a bite on the floor, and then you went and put your fork in the dishwasher like a responsible child.
Wait, before you think you’re too big of a girl… let’s trace back to earlier.
You’re not feeling well today. In fact, your mom took a sick day to stay home with you as your fever boiled over 101+. Snuggles are your thing, even if your thing is only for 3 minutes after bath time and only with your mom. But when you’re sick, you snuggle in, sweat up a storm on us, and enjoy watching TV with dear old *insert parent*.
After about 18 hours of your fever not tipping below low-grade, your mom did the responsible parent thing and scheduled you an appointment at the pediatrician’s office. You’re pretty much there every other week at this young stage in your immune system.
As we’re waiting in the tiny room, propped upon the vinyl table covered in thin, disposable paper sheet roll, you decide you want mom-snuggles and cereal bites. This past month you’ve really enjoyed the cinnamon cereal, which is exactly what you got. It was a great snack as you were perched on your mom’s lap enjoying intermittent milk from your sippy cup.
The doctor came in and thought you might have an ear infection (the 1,398th this year), but that came back negative. What else came back negative, you wonder? Your strep throat test where the doc shoves two long Q-tips down your throat to swap your tonsils (or other medical jargon that I don’t speak). What didn’t come back negative, the accompanying spit up on your mom’s shoulder, down her back and onto the chair where you had just enjoyed your cinnamon snacks. Positive for puke.
Anyhow, we love when you put up dishes, put the lids on your sippy cups, take things out of the recycling bin just to put them back, and all the other things that make me think you enjoy figuring out how things in this world work. We don’t, however, love you figuring out how a gag reflex works.
Your Needing-a-Shower-and-a-Drink Parents