We’ve been letting Z. play with a spoon during meals, but he hasn’t shown the slightest hint that he knows what to do with it, other than gum on the rubber end of it and occasionally throw it at the cat, the latter especially when he has dipped it in something orange or dark green.
But then today out of the blue he dipped his spoon into his bowl and proceeded to get about 5% of his food into his mouth, although much of it made several detours along the way, stopping at his hands, arms, and the general area of his face.
And you can tell Mom was in charge of feeding him today, because she’s the half that’s smart enough to know to give this kind of thing a shot when you’re dealing with plain white yoghurt. Dad would have picked roasted beets or maybe spaghetti sauce for the day he tried this little experiment, and then would have cussed the deep red stains on the ceiling for months until he got around to dragging the ladder out of the garage to hose down the place.
The funniest thing was, about half-way into the meal, Z. looked at me and said, “How about chilling the salad fork next time, will ya? Have we forgotten everything in Cadetiquette?”