Ollie is getting a little better at the Cheerios. The ratio for atttempts to successes in getting the cereal to his mouth is increasing to about 5 to 1.
When it sits balanced on his swollen little gums, he begins to chew. And he's getting better at that, too. His jaw moves like he's one of those wodden ventrilloquist dummies that have little chins that drop up and down, up and down. Which is funny because he only has two teeth, and they're both on the bottom.
The poor kid has enough drool to fill a swimming pool, and every once in a while he just can't be consoled. His cheeks turn rosy and he cries like he'll never be okay with the world again. When it happens, we keep expecting 10 more teeth to surface the next day. But alas, he wakes up grinning, happy, and with the same two lonely little teeth. He'll be like an old man wihthout dentures soon. I mean, there will come a day when we'll want to give him things that are real, like Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Oh wait, I said real. Like toast and cheese and bits of fruit cut meticulously small. But he'll still be stuck with that pair of teeth, and we'll end up blending his meals up into some nasty tri-food puree.
In the meantime, he has found a quicker way to get the cereal in his mouth.
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I should be putting the food in a candy machine and charging people a quarter to feed my kid.
I'll pay!
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