Move Over, Martha

[ailbhe]

Today's dinner was pasta bolognese. Linnea eats this with her fingers; it's very... red.

I was in exile upstairs - in Sick Bay, if you will - and she and Rob were dining together, tete a tete. When she had finished what was on her plate, and demanded more pasta (man, that girl enjoys her pasta!) Rob got one of her face-flannels from the basket we keep behind her chair, and a bit to the right, where she can't reach it, and went into the kitchen to make it warm and damp, suitable for baby / tomato intervention.

When he returned, she had reached the basket of wipes and bibs, and was industriously wiping the tomato sauce off her high-chair tray.