Buffet Day
We took everyone to our favorite Chinese buffet yesterday. Besides being a good chance to gorge myself, these bimonthly trips are fun to track the boys’ development. First we left them with a sitter while we enjoyed our meal. A couple months later we took them with us in hopes that they’d sleep for the entire meal. Later, they ate a bottle while we ate. Finally we’ve reached the point where we can keep them busy while we eat by giving them food from the buffet. In a couple more months, they may reach the same stage as their sister, which is randomly refusing to eat foods that they usually love.
This was an impromptu trip spurred by Ellie’s visiting family. They pulled into town at lunchtime, and declared they wanted to visit the buffet right before I started pouring bottles. Everyone was hungry, and Ellie asked if we could feed the boys from the buffet. I had enough confidence in their willingness to eat solids to agree. They love grabbing utensils, whether from our dinner plates or straight from the dishwasher, and they enjoy munching on anything potentially edible, from Tasteeos to dog food to whatever that was that I pulled out of Tory’s mouth yesterday in the backyard. So we packed everyone into their respective vehicles, and drove to the restaurant to feed everyone.
Upon arrival, we set all three children into high chairs, gave the boys their bottles, and I ran to the buffet line to prepare a plate for Abbie. I returned to see Abbie standing in her high chair and generally treating it like the trampoline in our backyard. Since the trampoline is infinitely safer for her to bounce on even with the dire warnings of serious injury or even death plastered across the edges like a decorative pattern, I gave up on the high chair and sat her in a big person chair. She stayed in place as long as there was something interesting on the plate in front of her, or at least the plate next to her. I loaded her up with fruits and vegetables to eat, as well as the customary pieces of protein to throw. We later discovered that fried won tons provide diversion for her, though admittedly not much else nutritionally.
Once she was content, I went back to the tables to make a plate for the boys. I pulled zucchini and mushrooms off the salad bar, plus a few lo mein noodles and a little banana in case of desperation. Back at the table, I prepared their food by chopping it into individual food molecules, or as close as I could get with a table knife. When everything was cut sufficiently fine, I separated it on two plates into individual piles so the boys could graze from each food at their leisure. I set the plates in front of them, and watched them rake their hands across them, grabbing fistfuls of food and shoving it in their mouths, defeating my attempts at letting them try each food separately in non-choke hazard quantities.
They spent the rest of the meal batting at their plates. I’m not sure how much food they actually consumed, they just seemed to be spreading it around their plates, so it’s good to see they’ve got a head start on acquiring that valuable skill to make it look like daddy’s awful cooking is disappearing. An adult had to keep a hand on their plates at all times to keep the plate from hitting the floor as they batted at it. Tory eventually succeeded in knocking his on the floor, at which point he attacked mommy’s plate. When he realized it was out of his reach, he pulled on her placemat to move the plate closer to his clutches.
We made it through the meal without incident, unless you count a large yet expected amount of food hitting the floor. I made an ice cream cone for Abbie as we packed up, and left a generous tip to compensate for the mess we left. Abbie took a couple bites off her cone, and gave it the customary toss to the floor. Someday soon we’ll have three ice cream cones hitting their floor.
This was an impromptu trip spurred by Ellie’s visiting family. They pulled into town at lunchtime, and declared they wanted to visit the buffet right before I started pouring bottles. Everyone was hungry, and Ellie asked if we could feed the boys from the buffet. I had enough confidence in their willingness to eat solids to agree. They love grabbing utensils, whether from our dinner plates or straight from the dishwasher, and they enjoy munching on anything potentially edible, from Tasteeos to dog food to whatever that was that I pulled out of Tory’s mouth yesterday in the backyard. So we packed everyone into their respective vehicles, and drove to the restaurant to feed everyone.
Upon arrival, we set all three children into high chairs, gave the boys their bottles, and I ran to the buffet line to prepare a plate for Abbie. I returned to see Abbie standing in her high chair and generally treating it like the trampoline in our backyard. Since the trampoline is infinitely safer for her to bounce on even with the dire warnings of serious injury or even death plastered across the edges like a decorative pattern, I gave up on the high chair and sat her in a big person chair. She stayed in place as long as there was something interesting on the plate in front of her, or at least the plate next to her. I loaded her up with fruits and vegetables to eat, as well as the customary pieces of protein to throw. We later discovered that fried won tons provide diversion for her, though admittedly not much else nutritionally.
Once she was content, I went back to the tables to make a plate for the boys. I pulled zucchini and mushrooms off the salad bar, plus a few lo mein noodles and a little banana in case of desperation. Back at the table, I prepared their food by chopping it into individual food molecules, or as close as I could get with a table knife. When everything was cut sufficiently fine, I separated it on two plates into individual piles so the boys could graze from each food at their leisure. I set the plates in front of them, and watched them rake their hands across them, grabbing fistfuls of food and shoving it in their mouths, defeating my attempts at letting them try each food separately in non-choke hazard quantities.
They spent the rest of the meal batting at their plates. I’m not sure how much food they actually consumed, they just seemed to be spreading it around their plates, so it’s good to see they’ve got a head start on acquiring that valuable skill to make it look like daddy’s awful cooking is disappearing. An adult had to keep a hand on their plates at all times to keep the plate from hitting the floor as they batted at it. Tory eventually succeeded in knocking his on the floor, at which point he attacked mommy’s plate. When he realized it was out of his reach, he pulled on her placemat to move the plate closer to his clutches.
We made it through the meal without incident, unless you count a large yet expected amount of food hitting the floor. I made an ice cream cone for Abbie as we packed up, and left a generous tip to compensate for the mess we left. Abbie took a couple bites off her cone, and gave it the customary toss to the floor. Someday soon we’ll have three ice cream cones hitting their floor.
posted by Matt at
11:09 PM
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