It smells like paper pulp—a watered-down cardboard goo. It’s anemic-looking, too. These grains need a good tan, I say. The unmixed raw material is fluffy and made a bit of a mess when I poured it into a small plastic container. Poof!
It’s rice cereal.
Max had his first mouthful yesterday, and he was not impressed. He was also starving, so the frustration of having a dollop of pasty yuck come in contact with his mouth was surprising—and disappointing. (Max much prefers the boob-fet.)
The second try was more successful. Max has been showing interest in eating—that is, studying my chewing moves as I pop chocolates or slurp down dinner. Often, this happens right over his head while he’s in his carrier, and I admit that his hair collects a fair amount of crumbs. (We shampoo regularly.)
Max cooed and smiled as I pretended to eat the rice cereal from a little plastic tea spoon I got in Japan several years ago while traveling on business.
“Mmmmmm!” I tempted him, pretending to nosh on the cereal, which I haven’t actually tasted. I like Cream of Wheat and oatmeal. This smells like neither of those adult options.
“Riiiiiice cereal!” I chime.
Max poked his tongue out and takes some of the cereal from the tiny spoon. He rolled it around in his mouth and it covered his gums, coating them in goop. He grinned, chuckled, and allowed the cereal to drip out of the corners of his mouth on to the bib. (Why this bib is cloth, is a lesson hard-learned. There is no way I’ll be laundering countless bibs as we test various mushy foods.)
Max might have swallowed a grain or two of the rice cereal. I’m not sure. For now, “solid foods” are more for entertainment value than actual eating. Because as soon as I put away that plastic cup ‘o muck, he started rooting like the boob fan he is. (The obsession starts at a young age, I see.)
The rice cereal lacks one very important ingredient: Mom.
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