Yesterday my daughter mastered noodles.
As I'm sure that makes no sense to any one, it means that yesterday, my four year old managed to consistently eat a third of an egg noodle, chewing and swallowing it in under 30 seconds.
We're so proud.
That last part was supposed to be sarcastic.
Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that we're making progress, a happiness that was dimmed right after the aforementioned noodle mastery when she promptly gagged on a corn kernel. That would be one, singular piece of corn.
I guess I'm just bitter. We've been working on this for so long, bouncing from doctor to doctor, trying all sorts of things and all we have to show for it is mastery of eating noodles, which, by the way, will probably promptly fly right out of the window once we start doing it at home. I know that these things take time, but seriously, we're going to be doing this for ever. For. Ever.
At least we have the positive side effect benefit of her bringing older foods back into her repertoire, which is nice. She ate a sandwich on Sunday, and I can't tell you the last time that happened. Still, back to me being bitter, the progress isn't exactly progress as she's eating things that she used to eat. I know that I should be thrilled, but I'm basically tired and grumpy about the whole thing.
You know, the usual.
I'm sure that my mood will lighten once she starts adding more and more things. I know that there will come a day when I can just put a plate of food in front of her and she'll eat it without any drama but that day is so far removed from my ability to imagine it, that it might as well end with me donning my jetpack and flying off to the space monkey farm.
That being said, I'm very much looking forward to that day because hey, space monkeys.