Believe it or not, I'm living on air

A belgian waffle. Blueberry applesauce. Cantaloupe. A crispy rice treat. 

That's what the dog ate for breakfast. 

I'm a vegetarian. Scott's an omnivore. And the G-man? He's on the oxygen diet, seemingly eating nothing but air. 

Whereas other children his age are gorging themselves on snacks, lining up for chips, begging for fruit, grabbing desserts and stuffing their faces with sandwiches, he is happily sharing any food substance with all takers. Yep, he's a giver. And it drives us batty.

A veggie straw is interesting only in its ability to be crunched under a shoe. A fig cookie is just asking to be squished in little fingers. A mouthful of peas is amazing while being chewed, but after the novelty of that wears off, each pea is pulled back out for all to see. 

A nibble here, a bite there and ta da! He's done. And that's with the food he likes. Oh sure, this is what toddlers are supposed to do: eat like a whale one day and a bird the next. But he hasn't had his share of tummy-filling days yet, just the light pecking ones. Every day is a testament to how something can survive on just a few hundred calories, most of them from his morning and evening soymilk.

Aside from the early bottle months, he has never told me when he is hungry. Perhaps he never is? Is G-man's body so efficient it makes the most on just a few bites a week, some of them never even swallowed?

He's thriving. Except for the talking, he's hitting all his milestones. He's happy, active and sleeps well at night. He's even growing. He just is not interested in eating.

Um, I love eating! How can he not? I know picky. I am one of the choosiest eaters on the planet. But still, I'm hungry. And if I find something I like, it's my personal mission to eat as much of it as I can. Go ahead, offer me a food I enjoy. I won't let you down; I won't turn it down.

It's hard to know what bothers me most. Is it the simply the fact that I don't think he has healthy eating habits and he's already underweight with no baby fat? Is that I spend time making meals only to see them fed to the pets? Is it the constant cleaning of the floors, walls, chairs, cabinets, dog, whatever is in throwing range? Or is it the amount of food and money that's wasted each meal and snack? I'm guessing it's all of them together forming a perfect storm of mealtime struggles.

The doctor doesn't seem really worried. And for the most part, I try to roll with the flow and tell myself his body knows what it needs. As you can see, I have a lot of questions about this but I feel better knowing that posts on babycenter and mamapedia are filled with parents fielding these same issues and generally, none of their kids have anything wrong with them.

Still, we have an appointment with a nutritionist at the children's hospital this month. I would love for her to tell me it's all my fault: I'm not presenting the food the right way, not timing it correctly, not saying and doing the correct things while he's (not) eating. Deep down, though, I don't think this is going to happen. Maybe it's a sensory perception thing, maybe it's a tiny tummy or maybe it's just that he doing great and I should be happy he's not on the road to obesity yet.

In the meantime, I'm going to hit a watermelon like there's no tomorrow.