JB loves to drop her food all over the floor. Of course. She does it with the performed indifference of a gourmet who just isn't in the mood for mashed beans.

Needless to say, JB is way beyond mashed beans

She eats everything from Swedish meatballs to Greek olives, far beyond the Cheerios and cheese of most of her compatriots. Though she does tend to obsess over various foods.

Over the past six years she has been:
A carrot-tarian, a grape-tarian, a pea-tarian, a raisin-tarian

But everything from peas to raisins ends up on the floor, flung from her hand like yesterdays shitake mushrooms.

The problem is I find this hilarious.

I can't help it. Every time she does it I try to look serious, but then I end up giggling.

Now her mom is quick to gently snatch her arm and say a firm no. But with dad it's a different story.

I just watch that girl as she picks it up the pea by its head(?), holds it out off the side of the plastic tray of her booster seat, saying, "Do you dare me to do it?" which of course sounds to the untrained ear like "loo loo lee loo wee." And then she does it. Absurd as it is. Down on the floor. A pea. A carrot. Why? What sane person would do it. And then she laughs.

Hysterical. Every time.

Winnie the Pooh in rehab

A tradition at the Sarino house is to read little JB a story before she goes to sleep. Last night I picked up one of the Winnie the Pooh stories.

To my alarm I soon realized that I was giving my daughter a self-help allegory in how to become an addict. Yes, Edward Pooh, also known as Winnie the Pooh, or Pooh for short, is an addict. Why isn't this on the cover of every Disney-equivalent of Star magazine.
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