Not so green Bean

When I first offered Bean solid foods around six months of age, she was excited. She loved everything - everything - that I put in front of her, from cereal, to prunes, to beets, as well as the usual delicious suspects like carrots and apples. She loved avocados and mangoes, and when it was time to introduce meats she loved salmon and haddock and chicken. She loved her food so much she would hum "Num num num num" the whole time she ate, loving every moment of the (albeit pureed) culinary experience.

And then, suddenly, the tables turned. Around age 2 she decided she didn't like vegetables or meat any more. I could get her to eat a few peas or green beans, and maybe some meat sauce on pasta, but that's about it. Luckily she still loved berries and bananas and apples, and she liked whole wheat pasta, yogurt, cheese, eggs, etc. for protein. Now she's 2 1/2 and has decided that she also doesn't like most fruits. Getting nutritious food into her has become quite a challenge, and she's become equally skilled at avoiding it.

Last week I found the apples I had lovingly sliced stowed in her juice cup and heard her offering the dog some peas as a "treat."

Bean, did you eat your green beans with your lunch at school today? No, Mum. I did-dint. I can't like them.

Now Bean gets a lot of her fruits and veg in the form of yogurt smoothies (with peas, avocado, blueberries, spinach puree, and all sorts of yummy additions) and pasta with cheese sauce (including pureed squash, pumpkin, or carrot). Tomato sauce for pasta is also a great place to "hide" veggies and proteins that get gobbled with gusto. I've also discovered that "duck sauce" (applesauce with a little strawberry to make it pink) is a ready vehicle for brown rice and chicken.

I'm sure (I really hope!) that this, as with all kids' phases, too will pass, but in the meantime I should document some of her more creative strategies.

• Please have pudding, Mum? No, Bean, you can't have pudding with your breakfast. Maybe after lunch. Please have lunch, Mum?
  
• No thank you Mum. I no want my peas. Please put them in the fridge? I save them for high school.
• Here, Daddy. These are for you!
• I want something else, Mum! Something.....good!
• Please have some cookies Mum? No, honey, you need to eat some more lunch. Would you like some strawberries? No thank you Mum. Please have some cookies? No. Please? I said 'Please,' Mum!
• OK, Bean, I see you're not eating your dinner. Are you full? Ready to get down? All done, Mummy! [I clear her tray.] Please have something else Mum? [She gets a huge smile on her face and whispers] Somethin' good!

I always vowed that I not would bargain with her about food ("Eat your banana or there will be no dessert,") but that seems to be all that will work these days....unless I want her to live on pudding and cheese and crackers.

Dr. Bean, MD

Bean loves going to the doctor, and she constantly talks about her pediatrician. This comes in handy, kind of like Santa Claus, when we try to convince her to eat her vegetables or brush her teeth. "Dr. B. said big girls need to eat their peas..." Works like a charm. Sometimes.

Anyway, she recently started pretending to be Dr. B. I have a blood blister on my pinky that just won't go away. She has to be sure to "kiss my boo boo to make it feel better" at least twice a day, and yesterday she decided she would fix it once and for all - with her toy Craftsman drill. She also had to use the drill to take my "temp-asure" in my armpit, which of course required a lot of shirt-wrangling and contortion on my part. "You no have a fever, Mum. You don't need medicine." [Surely she was thinking, "More medicine for me!" - will post on that subject shortly.] Finally, the drill doubled as a "telescope" to listen to my heartbeat.

The healing-by-drill was a fun game, but I had to put the brakes on when she said, "You have a tummy ache, Mum. I make you feel better," as she lifted up my shirt and stabbed me in the stomach with a pencil. I did NOT see that one coming. I suggested that she focus her healing attention on her teddy bear. I'm sorry to say that if Boo Boo Bear didn't have a tummy ache before, he surely has one now.

My favorite Dr. Bean moment was when I was feeling blue a few days ago. She said, in her most tender voice, with a little hand on my cheek, "You are sad Mum? You want me to get you a band-aid?"

The girl is specific

Please may I have some delicious chocolate cake on a tiny breakable dish, Mum? 

Transcript 6

Hubby left for work before Bean woke up this morning, but he made her a special toast-and-applesauce octopus sculpture before he left.

Bean, eating breakfast: Dad-dee? Dad-dee?
Me: Daddy's at work, honey.
Bean: Daddy workin'.
Me: Yup. But he made you this special toast before he left. Wasn't that nice?
Bean, examining her toast, a huge smile forming: Good girl, Dad-deeee!

Symphony of toddlerese

Alternate title: What did parents do before baby monitors?

I love my baby monitor. It gives me freedom to move around the house, watch TV - even sit out on the deck - and know that if Bean wakes up, I will be able to hear her.

Most of the time it's just her cute little snore broadcasting over the air waves. Of course there's the occasional late-night cry, but thankfully those are few and far between these days. When she wakes up in the morning, Hubby and I sit down with our coffees and laugh as she performs her A.M. monologue. It usually goes something like this:


Mum-ma! Mum-ma! And when that doesn't bring anyone to the door: Dah-dee! Dah-dee! Didda-didda-dididididida! Mum-ma!

Next she likes to throw her pacifier, which for some reason she has named "Mimi," out of her crib and thus out of her reach.


Uh-oooooh! Mimi! Mimi! Mimimimimmiiiiiii! Mum-ma-mum-ma-mum-ma-Dah-deeeeee! Uh-oh! Uuuuh-ooooooh?

She's not distressed - just chatting along to herself, cracking up laughing every now and then. I know I should go to her, but I'd rather sit and listen!