Last year when we went to Mexico, Eleanor was 11 months old and not really breastfeeding anymore but not a very skilled eater, so mealtimes were a challenge to see what meats we could shred to tiny bits and what else we could mash up and what we could find that wasn't riddled with spices and salt. Also, we fed her limes.
Now she's pretty teethy and I'm not as worried about her salt consumption so we could just be like, Here, eat this taquito, and she'd be like, Ok.
Or like, Here, have some tostada, and she'd be like, Yup.
Or like, Here, have some guacamole, and she'd be like, I require two fists for this.
Or like, Here, have a squid ring, and she'd be like, It's fried though, right?
Or like, Here, have some mushrooms in cream, and she'd be like, I'm going to eat a weird amount of these and make an enormous mess.
Or like, Here, have some Mexican oatmeal, and then we didn't have to worry about her for the next five minutes because she was enthusiastically into her Mexican oatmeal but also she is crazy fast with a spoon.
Or like, Here, have a churro, and she'd be like, GIVVIT INTO MY HANDS.
And then this was chihuahua cheese, and every time I told her that she'd LAUGH AND LAUGH like she actually knew why it was funny.
And she can drink from a cup like a person now (with mad supervision) so we didn't have to keep running back to the room for her sippy cup.
And instead of an afternoon snack, she and I would share a fruity beverage on the beach, like ladies.
And we'd usually end up lunching late, so that by the time lunch was over she'd be like
and, as always, she ate an unholy amount of sand.
You do you, sand monster.