If I Served You A Rainbow, Would You Eat It?Oct 20 '00 Write an essay on this topic.Note: I was originally going to post this in the picky-eater category, but they're no longer accepting new material. I hope that this will fit in here okay, because (IMO) it's too funny (and even somewhat informative--though Terri would probably disagree) to keep to myself! When Michelle was three months old, Diana asked me if I would like to keep her for a few days. Would I like to lose 100-plus pounds overnight? Would I like to cuddle up on a bearskin rug with. . .anyway, you get the idea! I was overjoyed to have my tiny, big-eyed goddaughter over to visit me for a few days! When it came time for her bath, she was small enough to fit perfectly in my bathroom sink. She looked so adorable there--like a big-eyed teddy bear sucking her two favorite fingers (her middle and index--which Diana said she practically emerged from the birth-canal sucking)--that I just had to take her picture. At that stage in her life, she would suck on those same fingers at mealtime. I would put her into her wind-up swing when it was time for her to eat. I would pull her fingers out long enough to insert some food (and she actually seemed to prefer her fingers over the food, to tell the truth). While I was getting the next spoonful ready, she would return to her fingers until time for the next bite. At night--with chairs positioned along the side of my bed to form a guard-rail--I would put Michelle in bed with me. The first morning she woke up in my bed was when I'd come awake from a wonderful dream in which my first love. . . Note: Read It's 1977 Again! http://ainsleyjo.epinions.com/musc-review-61-ED2560-39EF66F5-prod1 . . .and I had worked out all of our problems and were back together again. I could hear Michelle stirring, but I knew, at her age, she would be safe if I went back to sleep again to try to recapture that wonderful dream. She would probably also go back to sleep. Not so with Michelle. As I lay there with my eyes closed, I could hear the soft, soothing sound of her baby breath as she moved a little closer to me. She began to pat my face and make sweet cooing sounds. She finally grabbed hold of my nose with her tiny hand. I slowly opened my eyes and looked into those big, beautiful, dark-brown baby-eyes of hers and agreed with her that it was time to leave my dreams behind (for now) and get on with another beautiful, exciting day. For the rest of her time with me, I allowed her to wake me up in the same beautiful way every morning. She was only with me for less than a week, but I remember the first morning I woke up without her patting and cooing me awake. The empty side of the bed brought tears to my eyes. She was back for another visit two months later. Since she had already grown too big to fit in my bathroom sink, I would turn on the shower and take her in with me. I sat on top of the drain until the water was three or four inches deep then moved just enough to maintain our little swimming pool but not flood the bathroom. At first, Michelle was a little scared of the shower flow, but she was soon loving everything about this new way of bathing. During this particular visit, she was also about to experience a new and exciting way of eating. Diana had informed me that she had been having a difficult time getting Michelle to eat more than a few bites at mealtime and hoped that I might be able to think of a way to get her interested in eating again. When it was time to eat, I looked over her food selection. The labels described very appetizing selections--but the appearance was boring, Boring, BORING! Most of the offerings seemed to be in varying shades of beige and off-white. Well, I knew how to fix that. I dished out the food and put little squirts of food-coloring here and there! Michelle ate with gusto! Since I knew that Diana wouldn't have time to pamper her like this everytime she fed her--and I also knew that Michelle needed to learn that food didn't have to look exciting to taste good--I was going to gradually re-introduce her to bland-looking meals as soon as her appetite became a regular event again. But I would be preparing at least one more rainbow meal for her. That evening, Terri (my "adopted" little sister from school days) dropped by for a visit. She was bursting all over to sing the praises of her then-fiance, Bill--but, also, to vent about what was quickly beginning to get on her nerves about him (which would eventually lead to their break-up, after which she'd marry Don the following year). She watched me with a shocked expression on her face while I gussied up Michelle's dinner. "WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING!?!" "Her mother wanted me to see what I could do to get her interested in eating again, so this is what I've been doing--and it's working!" Terri rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgusted disbelief. She told me I was going to poison my "niece." I told her Michelle wasn't my niece. She was my goddaughter. "Whatever! Okay! You're going to poison your goddaughter then!" "No I'm not. It's just food coloring. I use it to decorate cakes and cookies all the time. It's perfectly safe." As if on cue, Michelle tooted her horn in such a way that I knew she hadn't merely cut the cheese. When I opened her diaper up, the color of the squishy contents was sort of an inky-green. If I were to think up a name for this particular color, it would probably be "greenky." Terri about passed out. "I can't stand this!" she exclaimed. "I'm leaving! If your niece ends up having to go to the emergency room, don't say I didn't warn you!" "She's not my niece. She's my goddaughter. . ." "Whatever!" Terri called later asking about Michelle. I think that poor lady was almost afraid that I would be telling her which funeral home to send the flowers to! A day or so later, I called Diana to ask how Michelle was eating. "She's eating beautifully. Thanks for whatever you did. But I was wondering something. . ." "Yes?" "When she first came back home, her poop was such a weird shade of green. Did you notice this when you changed her?"  |
| Read all comments (17)|Write your own comment |
