My mission since last week following the very disappointing weigh in has been to beef up my little pipsqueak son. I have been offering him food practically every five minutes. Yummy things like french toast, vanilla cookies, strawberry shakes, bananas, yogurt... All things that I would LOVE to eat but can't because I'm on a diet. He's refused every. single. one. He's now beginning to refuse the old standbys: grapes, sliced turkey, cheddar cheese, cheerios... It seems the more I try to feed him, the less he eats. I don't get it. I'm even more frustrated, because yesterday and today he's got the runs and he won't drink his pedialite. I am freaking out. I must be a pretty bad mom if I can't get my son to engage in the most primitive of human activities. Eating. Have my neuroses about food somehow transferred to him, even at this early of an age?
Last night I cut up a boiled egg thinking he'd have fun playing with it, and maybe some of the smushed up yolk might make it into his mouth by accident. After flinging most of his dinner offerings onto the floor, including most of the egg, suddenly, he began to put some in his mouth.
"Look!" I whispered to John, "He's eating!"
"Good"
"Shhhh! No sudden movements! We don't want to distract him!"
We both sat at the dinner table for several minutes in silence watching Alex tentatively put boiled egg whites into his mouth. Then, moved on to a single shred of cheese. I was elated, when suddenly and without warning, he began frantically grabbing food from his tray and putting it in his lap and on the high chair.
I have a feeling I'm not going to win this war.
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