February 03, 2012
So after THAT happened, Ezra was once again knocked back to dietary zero. Liquids only, then small amounts of bland foods, then slightly less small amounts of bland foods, and so on and so forth.
Ezra was...not pleased. Ezra had other ideas. Ezra found my box of Secret Mommy & Daddy Valentine's Day Cake.
Caaaaake? Chocolate caaaaake? Dis one? Peas tank you welcome?
The thing is, there was nothing in the world I wanted to give this child MORE than his very own chocolate cake. Look at his little neck! The thinned-out cheeks! His arms are toothpicks and his backbone is knobby! Child, just keep that dinner of white rice down overnight and I swear, I will pump you so full of milkshakes and sticks of butter that even Paula Deen will finally be like, "okay, yeah, even I'm getting a little judgy now, y'all."
Where my Weight Gain 5000 be at?
He cried, of course, when he realized I was serious about No Cake For You, but refused to part with the box for the rest of the night. He sat hugging it on the couch for while, tracing the lovely delicious pictures with his fingers, talking to it, a little bit. SOON, PRECIOUS. SOON.
Last night he ate a meatball with some tomato sauce. He's eaten close to half a carton's worth of scrambled eggs and all the toast in the house. Every once in awhile he still sort of stalls out mid-meal, though, so I'm hesistant to declare him fully recovered. (Also because the Fates are still up there, watching and listening, lightning bolts of plague and pestilence in hand.)
Pediasure makes me twitchy (especially after the horrible amounts of day-glo artificial Pedialyte I poured down this kid's throat last weekend), so we're slowly trying to amp up the weight gain the old-fashioned way, with food. Peanut butter, whole milk, guacamole, good fatty oils...and all that goddamn hippie crap I drive everybody crazy with.
But also, yes, I will absolutely make some Secret Valentine's Day Cake for you, Baby.
His shirt doesn't lie! He could still be a kicker! Special teams, son! DON'T GIVE UP ON THE DREAMS YOUR GYMBOREE HAND-ME-DOWNS HAVE EMBROIDERED ON YOUR BEHALF!