So, apparently, you are not supposed to tempt Fate, you know, by doing her job of predicting the future. She doesn't think it is cute, she thinks it is one more example of human arrogance, and it pisses her off.
It actually started with this post. Where I (so-pleased-with-my-superior-parenting-skills) commented (probably came off as bragging) that I have gotten my kids to eat such an astonishingly sophisticated array of foods. blah blah blah
Mostly I was talking about G, who is older. It was still a little too early for Nico... and now, it is too late. I said it "out loud" and now my cards have been dealt.
Apparently, I rang the victory bell too early. As soon as Nico was past the pureed foods stage, he stopped eating fruit. HE WILL NOT TOUCH IT! I can put applesauce in his oatmeal, that is it! Anything else, no matter how small the fruit matter--he will spit it out, shaking his head in disgust. He probably has decided that fruit isn't "manly" enough--the little brute!
Fate, out of spite for my arrogance, has also given him the uncanny ability to sense that something is fruit, even if he has never seen it before. He just shakes his head and laughs as if saying: "You poor fool! You've brought this on yourself."
Then there was my last post, less than a week ago. Based on Nico's "all-boyishness" I predicted this series of misfortunes for my little man:
*Finally succeed in eating a rock
*Eat a bug
*Get stung by a wasp
*Sit on a mound of fire ants
*Give me a black eye
*Head-butt hubby in the groin
*Or a cast
*Throw a rock through one of our windows
*Chip one of his two teeth
*Somehow manage to climb onto the roof and possibly fling himself off
Of course, I wasn't wishing him misfortune, I spend most of his waking moments trying to prevent it.
Yet, Fate is mocking me again, peering through her long greasy hair, with one good eye, into her crystal ball, cackling at the lesson we humans must learn: that the future is not ours to read.
Nico is fine, but since my last post I have been stung by a bee and I have stepped too close to a fire ant mound and have a big, fat, red, swollen foot to prove it. When we finally paint the house, I fully expect to fall off the roof, breaking a bone, chipping a tooth, and requiring stitches.
I shouldn't even say that... apparently, I have learned nothing...