Last night, you ate your first piece of corn on the cob.
We were having dinner on the deck... you were helping me set the table (sort of). I put our little corn on the cob dishes in front of Daddy's plate and my plate. "Mommy," you said in a kind of annoyed sort of way, "where's my corn plate?"
"Do you want corn on the cob? Really?" I asked. What's the right age to give a kid corn on the cob, I thought? Where's THAT in the lexicon of parenting advice?
"Yes, please," you replied as you promptly claimed my corn plate as your corn plate.
Ok, I thought. What the heck. She'll try two bites, then hand me the rest.
I was wrong. You ate it - every bite. Like a pro. Perfect corn-on-the-cob-eating form.
I don't know why this impressed me so much -- maybe it just seems like such a grown-up thing to do. It seems like yesterday when I was feeding you green bean puree... and now you're tackling corn on the cob.
(Side note: I'm not really sure why you're wearing your Steak 'n Shake hat. You've had it forever and haven't worn it in months... but you rediscovered it yesterday and it hasn't left your head since.)
So corn on the cob - a mini milestone... but one that I'll treasure.
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