Not just the puffs. I have decided that it is ok to eat food that I feed myself. In fact, over the course of less than a week, I graduated from only puffs and my dirty sock to a whole repertoire of foods. It's very exciting. Both for me and mom.
There are of course bound to be some pitfalls along the way -- like the day she dared to put preserves on my bread. Fool woman. Trying to poison me. Again.
(It was delicious the next day, though. Presumably sans poison.)
Here I am loving on some pear (previously consumed: apple, bread, grape pieces, and my usual assortment of puffs). Hardly a new food, but the fact that I'm feeding myself and NOT squishing the pear: big.
In fact, I even like the food in my bowl to have some texture: alphabet pastas, anyone? beans?
Not eggs, though, those are still REVOLTING. Though major kudos to Mom for coming up with some interesting dishes in her attempts to get me to eat them.
Mom was beginning to think she'd be going to college with me to puree my food and feed me. Guess she can put that idea on the backburner.
Bring on the Swiffer:
And cleaning. I tell you, those kitties really do a number on the house. I'm just doing my part to help. (Because I surely don't contribute to the mess. At all.)
But then mom told me she wanted me to do baseboards. I don't do baseboards.
Woman, puh-lease. Baseboards?
Seriously, it is a daily affair...
But maybe I should reconsider that baseboard idea... Zsa Zsa is apparently getting shipped off to Cleveland...
Where is that darn package tape?
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