It all began when they handed you to me in the hospital; a burrito is what first came to mind.
How did they wrap you up like a burrito?
Was I supposed to be able to wrap you up like a burrito?
I had no idea what to do with a live, wet burrito.
Was there a burrito class?
Why am I thinking about food at a time like this? I now own a burrito?!
It became painfully clear you had very few, very acute needs. Eat. Burp. Sleep. Poop. Cry.
Cycle and repeat 12 times a day.
But it was your food fixation, that really, really, was your THING. From very early on, you liked to eat. A lot.
I mean, you were fun…as long as the food was in steady supply.
It wasn’t long before the double chin reared its little head.
And then the baby boobies showed up…
And you started getting fatter…
I wasn’t kidding when I said fatter…
In monumental proportions…
EVERYWHERE!
So I kept feeding you…
And you kept eating…
And you were happy.
But inevitably you would cry again…
So I fed you some more…
And you were happy…
And sometimes you stayed happy…
But then you would cry again…
So I fed you some more.
Birthday’s came and went.
You got stronger (from all the food).
And curious.
And Harry Potterish.
And very official.
And studious.
And interested in everything.
And today…EIGHT YEARS into the experiment…things are going well…Happy Birthday…you’ve turned out well and I am so proud.
I wish I could still wrap you up like a burrito…now, I know how.
I love you….Mom.
