Though just about everything goes into the little Biscuit’s mouth these days, she’s skeptical about actual food. Even classics like rice cereal and mashed bananas, enjoyed by every baby in history, have been identified as suspect. Which is totally puzzling. How are the two of us related again?

But it’s starting to seem that we might be. The gateway food was pureed apples with cinnamon, cinnamon being the critical ingredient. This led to mashed butternut squash from the winter garden, and from there to pureed pears picked last fall and frozen hence.

Not that it’s all local and seasonal. Nooooo. This gal enjoys sweet potatoes from the co-op, blueberries from the freezer section at Costco, and avocados from Peru, or wherever they’re growing right now. And she loves Trader Joe’s oat O’s, which are so popular that we ration them. Peas, the most seasonal thing on offer, still take much persuasion, even when adulterated with fresh mint.

“Mint! But you love mint,” I sigh.

Right now it’s less about eating, I guess, and more about the acculturation. About sitting down to a leisurely meal three times a day. About the pleasure of being at the table. About trying new flavors and textures, by smearing them across one’s tray and forehead and hair and occasionally tasting some too.

So I work on patience. I encourage her to take another bite; I dice a few more tiny banana pieces for her to push around. And I try not to wonder how old I’ll be before she eats her chard and — dare I say — enjoys it too.

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