The Time Has Come

Sometimes it's time. Sometimes you're not sure it's time, but you plow ahead anyway. That's where I am with D2 and a certain form of sustenance.

I'm very big on Avoiding Bottles, although this has as much to do with cheapness and laziness as anything else. But D2 has long since grown past any need for that sort of supplementation; he can sit at the table and hold his own glass and wield his own fork (even if he has to poke the food on with his other hand.) Nursing him has gotten to be a dreary chore, as he hates to sit still with his back to the world for that long and usually spends the entire time with arms and legs flailing. Yet he keeps asking for it.

So, I decided it was time to nudge him a little. He spent the day at Grandma's on Friday and survived fine as long as he didn't see me. (Probably didn't help, though, that I arrived *before* the potluck started.) Gingerbread covers a multitude of maternal neglect. Having meals ready a little early helps. And I haven't even begun to cut out nights yet.

But he's still not entirely pleased with me. Yesterday at lunch screamed with protest through most of the meal, even as he managed to eat it with relish. (When he settled down a little I let him sit on my lap and fed him myself. This seemed to console him somewhat.) The rest of the day, he didn't seem to mind.

What he really wants is Mama and Food. It's not that important to him that the two come combined any more, but it's hard to take time to give him a little extra of both while he gets used to the change.