Honey

Yesterday, Micheal, Oliver and I sat down to lunch. I scattered some Cheerios on Ollie's tray, a staple food for him these days, and opened my carton of yogurt. I dipped his plastic spoon in my yogurt and then into his mouth.

"He likes it!" I exclaimed with an air of finality. "Look, he won't even let the spoon out of his sight." He took bite after bite, looking with a fierce intensity towards the yogurt he loved so well.

"You're not giving him anything he shouldn't have, are you?" Michael asked.

"Um, no?" I said. "Seriously, honey, do you think I'd actually give him something he shouldn't have? What a dumb question. It's yogurt. YO-gurt."

My husband picked up the carton and read the ingredients. "Milk. Honey. HONEY. The second ingredient. HON-ey!"

Mortified, I yanked the spoon away. Of course I knew not to give a baby honey; it can cause a multi-organ-failure disease called Botulism.

"Oh, my gosh," I said. "Ohmygosh. I can't believe I gave my kid honey."

"What kind of yogurt is that, anyway?" Michael asked, as he turned the label towards him.

"Don't laugh," I said, closing my eyes and wincing.

He laughed. "Really? Honey Almond Yogurt. Nice."

From now on, I'm not so sure that I'm allowed to reprimand Michael for asking a dumb question.

As for Oliver, he weathered the three baby-sized bites just fine, but did not weather the substitute of prunes quite as well.