How did food turn into such a fight?

“What’s new with the baby today?” my husband asked on Skype.

“Oh, you know,” I replied. “Everything.”

Between the sitting up, reaching and grasping, rolling over and constant babbling, I’ve had my hands full.

But then there’s the food.

The doctor and the books described this process of transitioning a baby to solids in an almost clinical way: Step 1. Mix a little rice cereal with milk or formula. Step 2. Give a few bites a day, then move on to pureed vegetables and fruits. Add a little dash of patience and voila — instant solid food eater.

Someone did not send the memo to my baby that he was to follow said plan, because the first bite of cereal-milk I put into his mouth invoked a look of pure horror. His brow furrowed, he tongue stuck out, his eyes pleaded with me, “Why did you do this to me?”

I started trying to trick him into laughing as I would sing silly songs and make silly faces, just to get him to open his mouth. Then I would feel like a jerk as his face puckered up at the indignity of having to swallow liquefied peas.

As I sampled the fare myself, I couldn’t really blame the kid. Peas just don’t taste the same when they’re not in their solid state, preferably salted, peppered and slathered in butter. Mmmm, butter. Anyway, the point is that texture certainly plays a role in our food preferences. And, for all my good intentions of buying the premium, organic, nothing-but-the-best-for-my-baby food, it tastes awful.

Then there’s the other part the doctor and book didn’t prepare me for — what happens later. I mean, how am I supposed to know that two bites of sweet potatoes are going to result in washing half my baby’s wardrobe a few hours later? I swear more was on his face than in his mouth, but the effects on the “back end” of the eating process were phenomenal.

The lesson gleaned from this adventure: Promise the kid he can get buttered peas when he gets teeth and invest in a good hazmat suit for laundry day.