Smart Little Monkey

So I was just giving Owen lunch, and I walked over to hand him a bottle of juice. He was sitting in a booster chair with a feeding tray, holding one saltine in each hand. He didn't even feign an attempt to give up the crackers -- he just opened his mouth and looked at me pleadingly, like the most newly hatched of baby birds. I gave in for a second and held his juice bottle to his mouth. Then I left go and let it slide down to the tray, believing if he was thirsty, he'd figure it out. And so he did.

Owen's bottle was standing upright between his two outstretched arms. He went to grab it in his right hand but found it slipped out, what with a handful of awkward, pointy saltine blocking his gripping fingers. So put down the cracker. And he picked up the bottle. Then he put down the bottle and picked up the cracker.

Dilemma! "But how can I have them BOTH?" I could almost see him thinking.

He kept the cracker in his hand and wrapped his full, greedy little paw around the bottle. He braced the bottle against his torso and put his chin down to his chest, looking to make contact with the bottle nipple. Once he secured the top of the bottle in his mouth, he used his head muscles -- along with his limited range of motion fingers -- to lift the bottle and the cracker, still in one hand, high enough to tip the liquid down.

Success! Triumph! When I shook my head at him, and then laughed, I got another easily readable expression out of Owen. "I am very smart," his face said. "And I am VERY well pleased with me."

Ah, well, I guess that's how it should be, when one is 13 months old and the apple of one's family's eye. We're pretty well pleased with you, too, Owen. (You greedy, impatient little mess-maker! You know that cracker is going to pulverize into tiny crumbs I will later have to pick off your booster seat, the floor, your clothes, your bottle, and out of your hair. You know that, right? Right?)