Into the Maw

Just so we’re clear, for my New Yawk readers, “Into the Maw” means into the mouth, not into the “mawl”, the place where you go shopping at stow-uhs.

So, what goes into the maw of a fifteen-month old?  Just about everything.  The Boy must be on a growth spurt, since his appetite has gone from normal to stout to Dwarf to Viking to terrifying.  How can a child I can lift with one hand eat the same amount I can?  One of his recent meals included:  two eggs scrambled with cheese, two slices of ham, a pile of smoked salmon, raisins, crackers, Craisins (somehow eating dried cranberries is different from dried grapes), frozen peas, slices of cheese from an increasingly frantic and harried kitchen, and a tub of applesauce.  This was just one of three or four daily meals for my son.  If he eats like a pig now, as a small boy he’ll eat like a horse, and as a teenager will eat like a centaur.  Where does it end?  I’m imagining buying child kibble in fifty-pound sacks and milk will be delivered in a tanker truck.  Our kitchen will need ovens and mixers running day and night to keep up with demand.  Behold, the devourer of all, reaching for more:

Boy want food

Writer, architect, father, husband.

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One comment on “Into the Maw
  1. Babs says:

    Is that an extra lil’ chin??

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