feeding a child - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
...The kid starts to bounce up and down on his bottom, his eyes wide and mouth already partly open. He thinks this is his too. When the first spoon goes to my mouth he has a slightly crestfallen look, but then starts his celebratory bounce again as the spoon goes back to the can. It comes out with a lump of chicken and he actually claps his hands, mouth now as wide as he can get it without swallowing the whole room. What can I do? In his mouth it goes and he clamps his lips around it. So that’s how it is, one for me and one for him until it’s all gone.
...I put the spoon in the bowl and carry them both in my free arm to the armchair. Time to sit, to eat. I’m expecting him to reject it after eating candy for so long but for each mouthful he opens wide, chews a little and swallows it down. Each time he gets the chicken cubes his eyes open a little wider and his eyebrows rise in surprise. It’s the closest I’ve come to finding him cute. He drains the bowl and gestures for more. Not now though, I have to eat too...
Kayla bounced in her high chair like she was dancing to music only she could hear. Her head and arms went up and down while her face was a picture of concentration. The flavours in her mouth seemed to be causing her so much pleasure she couldn't be still, but at the same time dinner was clearly a serious business. Unlike her siblings at the same age she never dropped even a pea, scattered or threw food. Every piece was sacred and she cleared the bowl in her intense way until finally it was empty. Her face would become dismayed and with diminutive hands she'd clasp the bowl, banging it and squealing. After dessert she did it all over again, before being lifted out. Then she'd plant cherry-pie kisses on her parents and toddle off for a book...always the same book..."The Very Hungry Caterpillar" by Eric Carle. With each cardboard page she pointed to the food, learning to count, learning to speak. So long as they got her into bed before she was overtired life was peaceful...
...After a few more trades we head for home. Somehow now he is light again. As he munches his bread he makes “mmm,mmmm,mmmm” noises and instead of being irritated I am surprised to find it makes me almost grin. The crumbs make a trail down my sweater on their way to the ground and somehow this is OK with me. I chalk it up to knowing he’ll be going soon. Frankie is going to fall in love with him tomorrow and life goes back to normal...
Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by .
I get up for my water bottle leaving him on the chair and this time he’s OK. Apparently a full stomach goes a long way. When I start to drink he raises his arms again. He wants it too. I drain half of it fast, there’s no way I’m touching it with kid-spit on it. I hand it over with as much grace as I’ve seen Jake hand his protection wares over to the Happy Boys. The kid takes a swing and almost chokes on it. Water runs down his cheeks. I grab the bottle before he drops it.
Once again he is on my knee, this time I hold the bottle and control the flow. Such little sips and his thirst is never ending, or so it seems. Already the light has become softer, outside the shadows are lengthening and it’s the perfect time to head to market.
Given the late hour Rainer is surprised to see such a young child in the coffee shop. The mother is all painted smiles and bouncy head actions, vying for her next opportunity to get the spoon in the toddler's mouth. He averts his eyes so as not to seem judgemental, but he's already seen how pink the kid's eyes look and how his mouth keeps shifting between a smile and distress. The baby is a time bomb in a diaper. Rainer get's his order in for black brewed coffee and get's ready with the lid for a fast exit.
Feeding Rose was never difficult. The only hard part was keeping up. She loved everything her mama made so long as there was enough of it. Every time she saw the spoon she opened wide enough to show the room how many teeth she had and then clamped right down so as not to waste a drop.
Mama turns around from the kitchen expecting Troy to have finished his plate of chicken like I have mine, but instead he's poking at it like it's some kind of toxic waste. If I did that I think she'd explode but for our guest she's still all milk and cookies. "Hey, sweetie, want something else?" Troy shrugs like he doubts anything she makes will be good and slides silently off his chair, returning to fiddling with my lego, eyes fixed on the bricks.
The kid inhales his food like he doesn't think he'll see more for a week. He sits with his empty plate struggling to keep his eyes of Mrs Parker's. She smirks and tells him "Oh, I can't finish all this. It's such a shame for food to go to waste." The kid doesn't need any more invitation than that. He slides the plate toward himself and eats so fast it's like a high class vanishing trick.