Beezus on food

[kinglearisstupid]

More than anything, Beezus loves food.

Yes, she loves her mother and her father and her dog and baths and Mudgie's rubber rat that squeaks when she bites it and she even loves Sergio, on occasion, but above all else, she loves food.

Nothing makes her happier than waking up from a nap and feeling like she could use a snack, and before she even needs to call out for it, Mommy appears. Now that Beezus is better at holding her head up and moving her arms and legs, she will hold out her arms and give Mommy her biggest smile and without even needing to ask, Mommy will start pulling down her shirt.

Parents can be trained with enough time and patience.

Whether Beezus wants the left one or the right one depends entirely on her mood. Sometimes Mommy gets it, but sometimes she misses the mark, especially in the middle of the night when they are in bed, and Beezus will have to tell her sternly that she wants the other one.

But sometimes, because you have to be encouraging, Beezus will say, Good try! You are doing really well! You'll get it right next time!

And when Mommy does, Beezus will smile extra big for her. She's figured out that as long as she smiles, she can pretty much get away with anything.

Sometimes, when Mommy is not around, Daddy gives her food in something called The Bottle.

Beezus hates the bottle.

The first time she was tricked into putting the bottle into her mouth, she spat it out and pushed it away from her face.

THIS IS NOT FOOD, she shouted. WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO PULL HERE?

"Give your old man a break," Daddy told her as he bounced her up and down (which made her angrier, because she was in the mood for food, not bouncing). "This is just practice for when your mom goes back to work."

He tried pushing the bottle into her mouth again and Beezus turned her head away. A drop of food dripped onto her lip. The taste was familiar, but something was off.

Hmmmm, she considered this for a moment, then deemed it unacceptable. THIS IS NOT THE RIGHT TEMPERATURE. YOU'RE NOT DOING THIS RIGHT. WHERE IS MY MOTHER? I WANT MY MOTHER. I WANT. MY. MOTHER.

The bottle appeared in her face once more and this time, Beezus slapped it away. It fell onto the floor with a big thunk.

"So," her dad said to her as she began to weep at the lack of properly prepared food, the terrible service, and the sorry state of the world in general, "this is how it's gonna be, isn't it?"

Please, Beezus said through her sobs, I just want my mother. She will know how to fix this.

"I know, I know." Daddy patted her back and she was momentarily distracted from her train of thought. "I miss her too."

MAKE HER COME BACK WITH MY FOOD.

When Mommy finally appeared, Beezus was empty from all the crying and Daddy had that crazy look in his eyes like he wanted to rip out his own ears. "Jesus Christ, you guys," Mommy said as Daddy handed Beezus to her and walked out of the room, "I was gone for an hour."

Thank god you're back, Beezus said, trying to shove her head up Mommy's shirt. He has no idea what he's doing.

Mommy sat down in the Big Chair and Beezus shifted into a more comfortable position, tucking her cheek against her mother's softness. Beezus was in the mood for the right one today --- and Mommy, bless her, knew exactly what she wanted.

Food, Beezus thought as she began to eat. Food, you are my favorite.

She glanced up at her mother, who was smiling down at her, and she thought, You are a very close second, Mommy.

Mommy stroked Beezus's cheek softly and hummed her favorite song as Beezus finished her turn with the right one.

The left, please, she said, as Mommy switched her around without Beezus having to wait.

"Thank you," Beezus told her, and latched on.

"You're welcome," Mommy said, then looked down at her. Beezus had barely had two gulps down when Mommy let out an ear-splitting scream. "Dave! Dave! David!"

Daddy came into the room, running, and he was holding a bottle. Not the same bottle that he'd tried to force into Beezus's mouth. But a bottle, nonetheless. "What happened?"

"She just said her first word!"

"What?"

Please stop moving, Beezus thought. I'm trying to eat here.

"She was done with the right and I was about to switch her over to the left when she looked at me in the eye and said, 'Thank you.'"

Daddy started laughing. Mommy frowned.

"Honey, she's three months old."

"I know what I heard, Rossi."

"You also haven't slept for three months."

"I will let you do a cognitive interview on me once she's finished eating."

"Or you can take a nap."

Mommy looked down at Beezus, who was still eating. She was almost full, but she needed to get the memory of the horrible bottle out of her mind. "Yeah," Mommy said, "I'll probably just take a nap."

"She hates the bottle, by the way. Not that I blame her, but she was a real pain in the ass about it."

Yep, Beezus thought. Hate that stupid bottle.

Now, every time Mommy gives her food, she tries to get Beezus to speak again. "Come on, I know you can do it," she tells Beezus.

Moment's gone, Beezus says. Today she is in the mood to start with the left. But the moment might come back if you stay up all night with me and party. And you have to look like you're enjoying it.

Well-played, kid, says Sergio, who was listening the whole time. Well-played.