A. Research such as this.
B. We've been noticing for several months that Logan eats more, and in a more organized fashion, when he's with Wills, GHP or JK, or with family during holiday time. Peer pressure.
So far we've had mixed results. More often than not, dinnertime finds us struggling to get him to the table, then alternately begging him to eat (success rate: one time in 20) or ignoring him in hopes he will stop fooling around and put some food in his mouth (success rate: one time in five). He likes the idea of eating, and often cheerfully announces that "we're eating!" But actual consumption of food is a toss-up. We give him what we're having, unless it's too spicy/weird (and having been subjected to numerous servings of curry and babotie as a pre-teen...thanks, Dad!...my bar for "weird" is very low).
I hope this is a toddler phase and he doesn't become one of those people who only eats like four things.
Regardless of his performance at the table, Logan does love to set the table. Here is what a Logan-set table looks like.
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8 comments:
Logan has a great need to be helpful which is totally awesome.
He's pretty good at setting the table.
One of my favorite things about having Violet is that I feel like we have to eat dinner together. I think Dave and I used our table maybe 20 times before she was born. Now we use it every night. I love it.
Looks good, LB!
Very deconstructivist. He seems to be contrasting familial love with the dispair of oxidized apple slices.
Not too shabby! He does a better job setting the table than I do...
Good for Logan!
Our table is getting a lot more use too, but we haven't had Jackson try setting it yet. We'll give it a try and see where the napkins land!
OK—I think this is awesome! Logan did a much better job of setting the table than I did at age 8. As a matter of fact, I got kicked out of Brownies because I couldn't set a table. During one particular exercise, they assigned each of us to be a fork, spoon, plate, knife, or the “table setter”—and the table setter had to take turns placing the implements (AKA, fellow Brownies) on a huge mat (the "placemat") on the floor. Despite the fact that I set the table at home, the thinking was entirely too abstract for me, and thus I was doomed to fail. The group leader suggested to my mother that perhaps Brownies wasn’t the place for me. Screw the Brownies--I was more interested in making puppets out of wooden spoons, anyway, and I could do that at home.
I'm anxiously awaiting the "Logan Makes Mommy a Martini" post.
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