Oati-oati-os anagram for quickset cement?

Posted by dad…

Meet our daughter, Zoe. She is the main focus of this blog and a source for never ending observation and insight into the human condition. She also answers to the name: “Little-Baby-Zoe-Ketze-Mushy-Baby-Marshmallow- Chewy-Ooey-Gooey-Pineapple-Coconut-Up-Side-Down- Roly-Poly-Squirmy-Wormy-Chunkybuster-Butterball -Zoe-oat-Spaghetti-oat-Wheatie-Feety-Girl-Head”.

Our soon to be nine-month old girl is an eating machine. More accurately, she is a salivating machine capable of coating any surface completely with a slick layer of cold wetness in a matter of seconds while forcing objects many times her size into her oral cavity in the search for comestibles.

As she has begun her self-taught masticating lessons, (replete with pincer practice) we started propping her up in her highchair with a handful or two of handy baby-starter foods.

The first attempts were met with frustration and an occasional case of Infantosis (inflammation of the emotions of an infant):

1. maneuvering the pieces near the oral cavity only to have them stick to various body parts, rarely of which are internal
2. picking up the offending finger friendly pieces up and depositing over the side of the chair, occasionally inadvertently bopping a cat on the fly or on the bounce
3. the arm sweep, clearing the flat surface with one or two broad strokes
4. finally, the subject of this writing, the magician act…

The magician act starts innocently enough – Zoe stuffed into the chair with a handful of O’s to keep her occupied. Brief observation of the subject notes O’s moving in a mouthward motion and quickly disappearing, followed by some rudimentary baby clicking/chewing-like noises.

Occasional observation reveals agitated, hungry baby wanting more. Additional O’s are added and the process repeats.

The medical diagnosis of “Acute Hunger Activation” or AHA for short brings a dosage of cereal, carrots or some other substantial edible.

Once the substantial edible is rejected, often all over the baby, the father and the kitchen in general, Zoe is removed from the chair under the diagnosis “Baby’s Full of Food” or BFF for short.

The extraction process reveals that the baby is indeed unable to be removed. Approximately 95% of the foodstuff (according to the boxes, primarily rice, whole grain wheat flour and bran) has been mixed with saliva in the same general proportions as concrete.

The baby is stuck to the seat with all the O’s she shoved underneath her in an amazing disappearing act.

• The seat is oated and coated
• The baby’s chin is adhered to the top of her onsie
• The Bib is cemented in half and also to her belly
• Her dolly and teething toys now have an odd new texture that will not come off in the laundry or the dishwasher
• Her diaper (HTH- How’d That Happen?) has O’s stuck IN it
• Zoe-style hair goop holds better than Breck, Dipity Doo and VO5 combined
  
• Her orifices are clogged, ears, nose – unfortunately not her now agitated and screeching little mouth though
• My hands, which not unlike the feeling one gets when stepping in something unsavory in stocking feet, are now adhered to the baby

My elbow stuck to the chair’s eating surface, merely in the want of leverage to get the 25 pound sack of baby out of the chair has me feeling like Uncle Remus’ Brer Rabbit in the tar baby.

I guess my next invention will have to be a non-stick finger food.

Honestly, NASA, Home Depot or P&G should look into patenting this stuff, because if they don’t I will be forced to start a children’s sweatshop focused on using this material to build adobe style housing for the poor.