In which Mommy sets a good example, and is immediately rewarded

I bought a farm share last week, in a spur-of-the-moment purchase. We had discussed getting one earlier this year, and splitting it with Dave and Michelle, but Chris pointed out that I don't like vegetables, and they didn't offer any fruits or other goodies. So we passed, and I was back to wandering around Harris Teeter's produce section, buying green peppers and bananas. But then I saw another farm advertising in the local paper, and the website looked great, so through the magic of the Internet, I bought a share.

Farm shares help support local farmers. You pay a set fee up front and every week pick up a box of whatever's just been harvested. Our farm share is acutally a cooperative of about 100 Mennonite farmers, so there's a great variety. Plus, we get fresh eggs, honey, cider, baked goods and preserves. Yum! Everything is grown without pesticides and comes from farms in the immediate area. I was so excited when I got the email saying the season was starting and I could pick up my first box today.

My motivation for doing this is that I want Jonathan to learn to like more vegetables than I do. Unfortunately, I'm realizing that the only way to get your kids to do something is for them to see you doing it too. I came across some memoirs from a retired New York Times food critic, who was a picky eater when he started the job. He learned that if you eat something eight times, you'll learn to tolerate it, if not love it. I thought if I was going to try more vegetables, I might as well give myself the best possible chance by getting them locally grown and at the peak of freshness.

Well, the box today was fantastic. I sliced myself a fresh tomato as soon as I got home and ate it as I walked around the neighborhood with Jonathan. We planted the herbs (lemon thyme, basil, sage and mint) in a pot on the deck where there's a lot of sun, and Jonathan had a terrific time slinging the dirt around, and tasting it off the tip of the trowel. Soon it was time for dinner, so we went inside. I cooked up Jonathan some scrambled eggs. We will get a dozen every week. They come from all sorts of chickens because they are different shades of brown and different sizes. I couldn't believe it when I cracked them open! The yolks are so bright yellow that they look dyed. I scrambled them with some grated Gruyere cheese and they were SO GOOD! Jonathan polished off two on his own and started signing "more."

Eggs are not that big a challenge, though - I like them already. So I was already cooking up the next portion of our dinner. We'd received a pound of fresh asparagus. This was very tender and soft and velvety to the touch, and had a purplish tinge to the tips. I tossed a few stalks with some olive oil, salt and pepper, and put them under the broiler for a few minutes. Then I sat down to eat them while Jonathan looked on. Not bad! I don't see what all the fuss is about, but I could eat them without a problem. And then the greatest thing happened. Jonathan started reaching for a bite. I put a piece on his tray, thinking he would do as he does with all green veggies - open his mouth and let it fall off his tongue. But no! He ate it up and wanted more! I wound up eating two stalks and he had the third.

The final portion of the dinner was the best, though. I had bought mushrooms last weekend. I sauteed them in some butter and olive oil, along with some chopped shallots. Fantastic! I used a mix of shitake and enoki mushrooms, and took the recipe from Mom's Belgian cookbook. Jonathan liked the mushrooms, too, but was kind of full at that point. More for me!

So I learned that Jonathan is more likely to eat veggies if he sees me happily chowing down. And also that even veggies are palatable if you use enough olive oil.

Doat!

Jonathan's eighteen month checkup was fine and dandy. He's 32 3/4 inches long and weighs 28 pounds, 3 oz. His head circumference is 50th percentile, while he's 70th for height and 75th for weight. Developmentally, everything checks out as well. Apparently, sign language counts towards the total vocabulary, so he's on target in the verbal department, albeit nonverbally. He got one shot in his chunky little thigh. He didn't cry, but he looked at the nurse as though he was daring her to try that again.

We celebrated by going out to dinner at the local all-you-can-eat pizza buffet. Jonathan likes the pasta and the spinach pizza. On the way home, we stopped at the playground and found Sam playing with her mom. Jonathan and Sam have always gotten along well. They ran all over the playground and seemed to understand each other easily. They especially liked the little plastic fort. Jonathan would stamp his feet and Sam would jump up and down in response. At one point, they cracked each other up, and then gave each other a kiss. Cynthia and I almost fainted from the cuteness.

We all got together again on Sunday for a picnic. Once again, Jonathan and Sam were the dynamic duo. They especially liked the cinderblock building that houses the restrooms. They ran up and down the porch there, stepping carefully up and down over the curb. Jonathan shared some of his strawberries and bananas with Sam, and Sam told Jonathan how to ride on the little horsie. You can see a few pictures in our updated gallery.

Also on Sunday I took Jonathan to get his first MAN haircut. The mall didn't do a good job - they just snipped the scissors around his head a few times. So Sunday morning he and I went to an old-fashioned barbershop. Howie Long gets his hair cut there. There are five chairs, each staffed by a barber a little under a hundred, each with a big leather strap hanging off the side to sharpen the straight razors with. Jonathan did very well once I got in the chair to hold him, but he point-blank refused to wear a sheet. So we were both soon covered in a drift of hair as the clippers sheared my little lamb. He looks so grown-up! I was going to cry but I was so itchy I didn't have time. We drove straight home and hopped in the shower.

And after such an eventful weekend, with a first haircut and a first girlfriend, Jonathan's decided it's time to start talking. We were taking our evening walk Sunday and he was fascinated with the two small fishing boats our neighbor has parked at the end of the cul-de-sac. He spent a long time poking at them and asking me over and over again "Dis?" Today after work we went for a walk, but Jonathan didn't want to go up the hill to check the mail. I even jingled my keys (REAL keys, which usually grabs his attention) to no avail. Jonathan kept turning away from me and running down the hill. Finally, I asked him what he wanted to see. He pointed straight down the street and said "Doat!" We went over to see the "doats" and he was in heaven. I'm not sure he understood me when I told him his daddy and grandpa would take him on a boat in a few weeks, but that's going to be one happy little sailor.