The Diaper Strawberry Phenomenon

We are not a very formal household. J and I like to sport ridiculous bathrobes around the house in the am, because being sleep deprived doesn't do enough to make us look disheveled and ridiculous. LO has taken our lead, and most mornings you will find the child eating his morning Cheerios wearing nothing more than a diaper. (We've been working on the importance of not scratching at the table, however. If Miss Manners were ever to stop by for French Toast in her underwear, we'd hate for her to observe a terrible gaffe in manners and courtesy.)

Earlier this week, LO was sporting one of the non-Fuzzi Bunz diapers in our gallery of cloth butt-covers. This diaper uses velcro, rather than snaps, to stay leak-free, comfortable and breathable. Unfortunately, if an individual were to adjust those velcro straps while tired, it is entirely possible that the child will wear the diaper as a gorgeous set of ankle bracelets before the night is through. The diaper was not nearly that loose on the child, but it certainly could have used some cinching around the waist.

LO paid his imminent plumber butt no mind, and settled into his high chair with a fervent request for some noms on the double. I sliced up some chicken, some strawberries, and grabbed a handful of the ubiquitous Cheerios for the child and got started in my daily ritual of dragging my bathrobe's sleeves through whatever I'm cooking.

Eating is still something of a challenge for the child. Picking things up with forefinger and thumb is no problem, although it sometimes takes several passes before he successfully grasps whatever delicious morsel is destined not to be eaten. It's actually making the journey from tray to mouth that is problematic, particularly if the food is at all slippery. (I have considered packaging up all the food I find on the high chair after a meal and sending it to the starving children in India. And I suspect their response will be, "What the hell is this crap? Ewww!") The final issue with self-feeding is that LO doesn't know exactly how to let go of the Cheerio, chicken morsel or strawberry goodness once he's reached his mouth, so he just kind of gums around his fingers until enough of it has come loose from his pincer-grasp.

On this particular day, I was wiping the child's face off after breakfast, wondering if he had taken in any actual nutrition from the meal, when I received a phone call. I picked up the child and ran for the phone, noticing along the way that there appeared to be an entire plate's worth of food sitting inside the loose waist of LO's diaper.

LO sat happily on my lap while I chatted and checked my Facebook status. As I hung up the phone, I noticed that he was gumming something. Something red and sweet-smelling.

"Where did you get that?" I demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about mother," he said, swallowing and reaching in his diaper--the magical new source of food--for another strawberry.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my son has eaten diaper strawberries. Filthy child.