Spoons

Slice of Life '24 2 Minutes

Dear Elena,

Noticing things you do for the first time is a thrilling slice of life. It’s fascinating to see you develop and notice how one “first” is sometimes quickly followed by another. Other times, you do something you’ve never done before and spend a few days practicing and watching yourself in awe. Like the time you realized how your little hand moves in a gentle, circular motion when we stand by the window in the morning.

You’d watched me wave at our neighbors with you on my hip for weeks. Good morning, Miami! We’re awake! I’d wave for you, and you’d watch me, studying my every move. Until one day, you were ready to imitate me. Now, you pull at the curtains, eager to greet and wave.

This week, your new “first” came carrying a big sign that reads, “I have wants. Let me show you.”

When you sit down to eat, you fully engage with the food. Mama reads a lot of new research and follows the advice of the best to help you grow with a positive relationship toward food. She also tries to relax a bit, not to turn every meal into a formal observation of performance, wins, and fails. We enjoy eating, exploring the textures, and grabbing the spoon to eat more apple-cinnamon oatmeal.

Four days ago, as you accepted the spoon one more time, you stared at it ate what was on it, but didn’t put it down again for me to reload. Instead, you leaned forward and aimed at the small glass container in my hand. I noticed and brought it closer to you to see what you’d do. With your chubby little hand, you slightly rotated the spoon inward and placed it right in the oatmeal. You kept it there for a few seconds and then brought an almost empty spoon to your mouth.

When I attempted to help you, you moved your hand away from me and proceeded to try again. You helped me remember that help sometimes looks different, and I often have to respond to what others need to help them the right way. So, on this second try, I moved the glass container around your spoon, helping you get a better serving.

You moved the spoon along with me and brought it back to your drooly mouth. Success!

Elena, you know what you want and are learning to express your wishes. I’m ready for this part of our lives.

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Published by Ana Valentina Patton

I aim to be a learner, not a knower. If I forget, please remind me.

Published

16 thoughts on “Spoons”

  2. I enjoy your writing – and consider the responses you think of as sent via some magic writers’ ether. Great if you get them down, but I can feel the love either way ❤

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  5. That is too funny! Such a connection that you also lived here. We’re soaking in this city’s great things before returning overseas. I will definitely miss the unexpected rain and the roosters 🙂

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  6. Thank you for this! I never thought I’d use Brene Brown’s wisdom with my child this early in life, haha! I love everything she writes about helping others, and how it’s important to ask, “What does help look like to you?” I guess Elena found a way to let me know!

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  9. I could honestly watch her chubby and tiny hands all day long. Thank you for coming back every day, Amanda. My goal moving forward with this challenge will be to make the time to put down and send the responses I think of when I read comments. I so appreciate your encouragement!

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  11. Ana, what a beautiful post. I love that it is addressed to Elena. My favorite part is her good morning hello to Miami. Lovely!

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  12. I love how you moved the jar around her spoon the second time. And her very independent, no mama, I’m gonna try this. I love our little Elena! How she has grown!

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  13. My favorite line from your slice was, “You helped me remember that help sometimes looks different, and I often have to respond to what others need to help them the right way.” What a powerful and wholesome slice!

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  14. I got stopped and then returned from your food explorations and Elana’s desire to manage herself to your Miami reference. When we got pregnant, we lived in Miami. The second time we returned to visit our friends after we’d moved away, my one friend picked us up from the airport and said, “Welcome to Miami,” to which my toddler replied, “It’s not your Ami. It’s my mom’s Ami.” I love that, those little moments.

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  15. This is so lovely. Your detailed description of your daughter learning to eat with a spoon reminds me of my grandson, who isn’t get using a spoon on his own, but does feed himself finger food. And makes his desires known very clearly.

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