The kid is (not) my son

Ok, well actually the point of this post is to emphasize how much Grady is my son, but I had Billie Jean stuck in my head, so henceforth the title. Grady's new thing is bread. Now I myself have been known to choose restaurants based soley on their bread. Some of my favorites include O'Charley's (why oh why aren't there any in FL), Mimi's and recently Sam Seltzer's. Panera is good, because the whole store is based around the bread. Grady shares the same philosophy. I can be feeding him at a restaurant, green beans or carrots or sweet potatoes, which he loves...but if the bread basket shows up before he's done with the jar of baby food, all bets are off. He clamps his little mouth shut when the spoon loaded with veggies comes within 4 inches of his pouty little lips, but if I break off a morsel of bread and head toward him, his mouth opens wide. His hands start to go mad, opening and closing with gusto, and his whole body takes on an element of excitement most people would reserve for finding out they just won the lotto, or have been cured of some terrible disease. Once I place the bread in his mouth he chomps down fast. He rolls it around in his mouth and makes strange alien-like noises of approval. As soon as the first bite is securely down into the belly, he is eyeing the basket again. Dr. Atkins, keep your diet. Bring on the Sourdough!


Here's me and Grady atop a plastic cow at Sam Seltzer's. The taking of this picture thoroughly embarrassed Chris. MUAHAHAHAHA! (evil laughter)