A Man's Heart

I have a baby boy.  He’s eight months old and a delightful little fellow.  He’s taught me a lot about masculine behaviour:

a)  Communicate only when the television, computer, or other bright lights aren’t around to distract him;

b)  Cave time to chill in his crib is appreciated; and,

c)  Anything with wheels is awesome.

The most significant thing he has taught me is that if his tummy is empty, nothing else matters.  I don’t remember my daughters lunging – with mouths wide open – for daddy’s hamburger or mommy’s sandwich.  The only time I’ve seen him cry in anger with red face and clenched fists was when he couldn’t reach a piece of food on his tray.

He has a voracious appetite.  By the time I get the spoon back into the bowl, his mouth is open for another bite.  I can’t fill it fast enough.  But once he’s full, he’s content and all smiles, happily playing and rolling around the floor.

Kind of like my husband.  Not the rolling so much, but when he gets home for lunch, let’s just say I don’t ask him how his morning was until after he’s had some food.

All the men in my life enjoy eating.  My wiry, little Dad jokes that he’s on a “See Food” diet.  He used to sneak away to lick his plate where the rest of us couldn’t see his bad manners.  When my brother was a teenager, he would take apples (from our orchard) to eat while reading in bed.  My Mom counted twenty apple cores one morning.

At family reunions, the men say, “It doesn’t matter what we eat, as long as there’s enough of it.”  I think my son is carrying on this tradition.

Why am I telling you this?  Because, ladies, Valentine’s Day is just around the corner and that old saying appears to be true:  “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”