The Tale of the Butter Dish


Let me explain.

I was on a break from work, peacefully eating my lunch at the family table. My husband was on the other side of the table, eating his lunch and supervising the baby’s meal. He left abruptly to run an errand. The 3-year-old had an emergency trip to the bathroom and needed my help. When I returned the above picture is what I found. Somehow the 8-month-old had pulled the butter dish off of the table and onto her tray, and obviously enjoyed both playing with and ingesting the butter it contained (she cried when I took it away).

Clearly, this is not my fault. Clearly, her father should not have left the butter dish within reach of her tiny grasp. I had no choice but to vacate the room with haste (when the preschooler has to go, the preschooler has to go). It was clearly the father’s responsibility to ensure safe environs for the baby before he took off (I didn’t even know the butter dish was there! I am always low-cal, low-fat…what? No really. Ok, I am lying). And clearly, I had a responsibility to run downstairs and retrieve my phone to snap a couple of pictures as evidence before taking it away from her (thus extending the amount of time she had to revel in her conquest). Right? I have no regrets. I make no apologies (of course, he does still have a few more: “she didn’t walk across campus on my watch” arrows in his quiver, so…).

My advice? Highchair cage.


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