Robert had brought home Mexican food for dinner, and we were all sitting at the kitchen table eating it. Well, to be more accurate, Maeve was standing up in her chair. She likes to stand up to eat. Not sure if that is a sign of her on-the-go personality or if she has figured out that food moves faster in an upright position thus decreasing the time it takes to expulse a poop. Either way, her habit of standing to eat really doesn't bother us.
On this particular night, I was helping Maeve eat some delicious pinto beans. Even by the time they got back to our house from the restaurant, they were hot. Too hot to eat. So, as any good mother would, I blew and blew and blew on Maeve's spoonful of beans. However, I couldn't be leisurely with this process either. My kids were hungry. Max said, "I want beans too, mommy." Maeve rebutted by banging her fork on the table. "No, Max!! Dem are my beans," Maeve shouted back in her pipsqueak voice. We all looked sternly at Max for demanding beans out of turn. But how can you discipline a pipsqueak voice? "Okay, guys! One at a time. Max, I'll give you a bite right after Maeve."
Meanwhile, in a far off land inside Robert's brain matter, he must have been dining alone without any sort of anxiety about taking turns with beans, because he managed to eat a good portion of his dinner while I was worrying about everyone else. Don't worry, I promptly roused him from his burrito haze.
So at this point, believing deep within my mommy soul that the beans were cooled down enough, I lunged the spoon in the direction of Maeve's mouth. She briefly clapped, as she so cutely does when she's about to get her way. She accepted the spoon into her mouth, took the beans, and I pulled out the spoon, already focused on preparing Max's bite. All was quiet for a moment. All I could hear was the sound of Robert chewing with his mouth open. Then, disaster struck. Maeve let out the most dreadful wail imaginable. It was like someone had just stuck piping hot beans into her sensitive little mouth. Well, in fact, that's exactly what had happened. You see, with beans, the top layer can be surprisingly cool to touch after blowing them off, leaving those mean, hot beans lingering underneath.
I took quick action. Instead of telling her to spit the beans out (that can get really messy), I simply leaned across the table and began to furiously blow into her open mouth. "See!! Mommy's blowing the beans off right now. It's okay," I said. The tears from her eyes began to retreat back into her sockets. Her little lip stopped doing that annoying quivering thing. And praise God, she swallowed those damn beans!
See, I'm a good mom. I blow off food when it's inside my kid's mouth.
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