Yesterday, I got home from work just as Amy was about to start feeding Jada dinner. We were all sick and crabby and tired. And when Jada pushed the very first spoonful Amy sent her way, I braced myself for a painful evening.
But then, Amy calmly laid the bowl of pureed carrots in front of Jada and handed her the spoon. “What are you doing?” I exclaimed. “I have a hunch,” Amy replied.
Sure enough, Jada stopped crying and, spoon in hand, started to feed herself. Oh sure, it was sloppy – by the end, she found using her hands was much more direct – but she ate a fair amount and hardly cried.
So I guess her initial fussing about Amy feeding her dinner was that she wanted to do the feeding. I’d read about this in the books, about the independent streak of kids this age, but it was still a shock to see it from my own daughter.
In fact, this morning, as I was getting ready to bring her into the kitchen for breakfast, she pushed me away and gave me a glare that said to me loud and clear, “I want to look at this book on the floor right now.” So I let Miss Independent look at the book until she was ready to come with me to breakfast.