Now, I'm all for variety, especially when I don't have to eat it. So every time I go to the grocery store, I pick up something unsual for "the baby 'O'".
This time around it was creamed spinach. Now, those of you who don't have children will go, "yeah, so?", while those who do will go, "HA-ha!"
You see, the stuff that comes out of the back end of your child (well, our child) is a dark olive drab, about the consistency of cake icing. It even forms little peaks! You're haunted with nightmares about spatulas, baby bottoms, and odors that peel paint.
Creamed spinach, we only just now discovered, is a dark olive drab, smells like three-day-old-grass, and has the consistency of tapioca pudding. The thing is, she likes it. A lot.
So there Ellen sat, spooning in what for all the world looked like what comes out. She was getting loud complaints because she wasn't spooning it fast enough. Meanwhile I'm watching her turn pale, and my own fingers curling into claws. There's just something wrong about thinking, "I just got done scraping this off your ass" while you clean their face.
Ok, nothing against Gerber, nothing against Spinach, but let's just say we won't be buying that particular flavor again any time soon.