The thrill of this last month-and-a-half has been the progression of my communication with T. There are still moments where I feel lost and clueless, but far more often are the moments when I know we’re getting each other. For instance, the food thing. I was initially feeding him rice cereal and pureed carrots and stuff like that, trying to keep it simple and to add one food at a time, etc, etc. He wasn’t having it. In Ethiopia, they were feeding him things like sausage and onion soup, so I think he was probably just bored with my bland if lovingly prepared and organic creations. One day I was wearing him in the Ergo and walking around the Americana (I used to make fun of people who brought babies to malls as an activity- no longer), when I gave up on my eternal fucking diet and bought myself a chicken sausage sandwich. T kept trying to eat it, so I started feeding him little bits of the roll and then eventually little bits of the sausage and he was the happiest baby on the block. A nearby mother actually asked in horror, “He eats that? Isn’t it spicy for him?” Man, people are nosy when you have a baby.
So now Tariku has gone from eating carrot puree to eating, well, everything. And he’s gained about five pounds. We’re calling him our little chunk of love.
T’s favorite things are Brown Bear, banging on things, eating chicken sausage, standing up, looking out the window, Bob Marley, bath time and, most, most of all, his doggies. Doggy is his first word of English. He uses it for anything he really likes.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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