Meat-eater

For my birthday, Dave provided one of the biggest surprises of my life. He got me the Nikon D-90. My stomach lurched like I was on a roller-coaster when I found out. THRILLING is the word that comes to mind. THRILLING. And he managed to do it without actually spending any of our money, in a complicated fashion which I won't go into here, but which clearly demonstrates not only his vast proclivity for wife-satisfaction, but also budget-consciousness.

Don't judge my pictures because I still have no idea what I am doing with the camera, but among the first ones I took were the introduction of Annalise to meat.

Here we are, setting up. Bumbo, baby spoon, meat- CHECK. Sweet cute expectant baldy princess- CHECK.




In a happy mood. Obviously unaware of what is about to ensue:

Upon insertion of meat into Sweet-Thing's mouth:

So I would like to call her a meat-eater. Perhaps more accurately though, she is a meat-dribbler. A meat-drooler. A meaty meat-face. Though no actual meat was ingested, a good time was had by all. I mean, two bites in she sneezed and covered the world with meaty meat-bits and who could deny the thrill in that? I was so grossed out that I started laughing and couldn't stop. Meaty-Sweetie saw me laughing and joined right in. The late afternoon yellow-y light was shining in from amidst the rain clouds and we were warm and happy and it was such a precious moment in the kitchen with my baby.

Once we were done, she started stuffing her mouth with what she really wanted for lunch. Mmm. Toe-ghetti.