The chants and screams of a cheerleadering squad are among the most treasured (ummm... vomit-inducing) sounds of our high school years. With pom-pom shoe laces, extremely short skirts & bloomers, tight ponytails that cut off the blood circulation to the brain and a frighteningly high degree of pep, the four most awkward years of our lives just wouldn’t have been the same (less mentally scarring) without the glory (horror) that was our pep squads. And yet... I find myself in the dawn of parenthood with my hand in "blade formation" (okay... I'm a gay dad, and I have five nieces - forgive me for knowing the terminology), chanting "Be Aggressive! B-E Aggressive!" when it's feeding time.
From the moment we left the hospital with our little chickpea, feeding time has always been a hurried experience. Meaning... Kensington is a very aggressive eater. Each time she takes a bottle, it's like it's the very first time she has eaten, and she can drink anyone under the table. The pediatrician has told us that we have nothing to worry about, she's eating plenty and we're not starving her... she's just 'aggressive'. When we picked her up from school on her first day, the teachers told us, with smiles and a look of sheer puzzlement, that she was an 'aggressive' eater. In earlier post I've mentioned that after they feed her, they have to either put her down for a nap or place her across the room for an activity so she doesn't see the other kids bottles, but she wants it - and is very vocal about her needs.
We've read numerous articles that talk about transitioning a baby from formula to solid foods, and how it could take anywhere from 4-12 times before it becomes a desired taste. Ummm... not for our child. If it's on a spoon or in a bottle, she'll eat it! From rice cereal to oatmeal, sweet potatoes to green beans, our little Kensington wants it. And she wants it NOW.
Yesterday I had her in her Baby Bjorn and I ended up getting a bottled coke from a vending machine. Now that she's able to reach out and hold her own bottle, she's reaching for mine. When I didn't want to give it to her, she loudly informed me that my bottle was HER bottle. I ended up handing over the closed bottle to her so she could hold it up to her mouth in order to calm her down.
Please excuse her little bedhead :)