We returned home from having Eva photographed last night and she was hungry. It had been a long day and I was feeling really tired. I wanted to feed her something I didn’t have to cook so I thought a PB&J sandwich was a good option. The only problem was that I felt too lazy to actually make Eva a sandwich. It would require thawing some bread, getting out a knife, opening and closing jars, spreading the peanut butter and jelly, cutting the sandwich into manageable pieces, a significant time investment.
Instead, I chose a large tablespoon from the silverware drawer, plunged it into the peanut butter jar, and scooped out a silky mound of the smooth spread. I fed it to her right from the spoon. I put her on the kitchen counter, her little feet dangling over the edge and gave her nourishment. I didn’t even bother to put a bib on her. Too much work to velcro the tabs behind her neck.
I felt guilty about it for a moment. I wondered if it teetered on the edge of parental misjudgment. But Eva seemed to love it. I’m sure she felt liberated from her high chair and the confines of the socially-acceptable way to consume peanut butter. I’m sure of it.
Otherwise I’m just a terribly lazy person.
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