It is probably universal that with the first-born, parents tend to be more excited about trying out new activities. By the time the second or third child arrives, the laid-back attitude and laziness set in, since the novelty is gone. I am no different. I was so excited with starting Marcus on self-feeding amongst a million things when he was small. With Nicholas, I am contented that he allows me to feed him so that we can save time and less mess, and move on to do other things. But it doesn't mean I love him any less.
Anyway, our first attempt a few weeks back was welcome with quite a bit of enthusiasm. The little baby actually protested when I tried to feed him with a spoon. He just picked up the mush and stuffed into his mouth, examined his fingers and rub his hair and face with them and back to the bowl. Later he snatched the feeding spoon from me and poked at his food excitedly. And muttering in between his mouthfuls, as if giving me reviews about how delightful a meal it is. Or not.
I haven't tried it since.
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