What a mess. But would you expect anything else from me? Organization, planning - definitely on my list of strengths (or obsessions, whatever). But neatness, not so much. I love making a mess.
This is how we feed our child. We'll have to unlearn this sitting on the table business. Hopefully, he'll be so young he won't remember that we used to let him do this. Don't tell him!
If you had the previous 30 minutes on video, here is how it would look:
Scout and I sitting on the end of the table that opens to the hallway, LilDude sitting on top of the table furthest from the hallway. Two plates on the table, sitting just out of LilDude's reach. With his ever expanding wingspan, we underestimate his powers about twice a week, and have to use our catlike reflexes to block him. Or, we use our catlike reflexes to go get a towel and wipe up the spilled water, thankful that the glass didn't break, and make a mental note to use plastic cups tomorrow.
LilDude tells us he is ready for dinner by groaning and pitching forward toward his food bowl with his mouth wide open. He will lean and lean and lean until finally, 3.2 seconds later, he is satiated with a tiny glob of sticky rice goo or vegetable puree from the hand that magically delivers the spoon to his mouth. Which will hold him over for 2.7 seconds. Mark this as the beginning of the feeding frenzy. LilDude has modeled his dance moves from the 'Hungry Hungry Hippo' 4-man group. He starts sitting up, then lunges forward, head tilted back, mouth hinged open until he meets with the spoon, then he CHOMPS down, whisking away the deliciousness into his hollow leg. Repeat. And do not stop, else he will cry. Yes, we have had real tears. Do NOT get between him and his food... you will be sorry. Scout and I eat our dinner with the "one rubber tipped spoonful for you, one metal utensil spoonful for me" approach. Of course we are eating different things. I have tried a speck of baby food, and honestly, it's just not that good. I much prefer lasagna. In between the dual spoonfuls, Scout and I also take turns defending our feast from the dog. She paces the hall, attempting to invade our space with a not-so-sneaky sneak attack. With her size, there is really nothing subtle or sneaky about her. Thankfully, she is not persistent, and after a few deflections, she tires, sinks to the floor in defeat, and gives us her sad eyes (which are her everyday eyes) from the hallway. She sits and waits, until we vacate the table, then she circles her spoils, and licks the floor clean of whatever fell beyond the edge of the table. Mess removed.