So for a while, after our holiday in Italy, Ricotta cheese was The Answer. We're always on the lookout for the Answer. Something that will suddenly sweep in like a magic wand and make everything work properly.
So far The Answer has been:
Corn snacks dipped in something
In the darkest days of spoon phobia these were the only way we could get anything into him - we'd dip the Organix carrot sticks, sweetcorn rings or tomato slices into the mush then generally encourage it in the direction of his mouth. For a while it worked - he would suck the mush off and sometimes even hold it out so we could put more mush on. And then, just like that, he stopped being up for it.
Ricotta cheese
The great white hope of our trip to Italy. He loved this stuff. Not on a spoon obviously, but the great thing about it is that it breaks up into handy lumps that you can hand directly into his mouth. It's also lovely and creamy and you can mix spinach into it without destroying the taste. He really liked it, right up to the point when he just stopped being up for it.
Soft pears and nectarines
In Italy these were in abundance. Ripe, juicy and big as his head. We'd graze off the skin with our teeth then hold it in front of him and he'd bury his face in it, scraping the flesh off with his gums and having a whale of a time. This still works, provided he's in the right mood but now he has top teeth as well as bottom he sometimes takes a slightly-too big lump which causes lots of regurgitation and choking.
Pre prepared food in pouches
You know the things - they're in a kind of metallic bag with a plastic spout. They provide spoon free fun and he can control how much he's eating by sucking at the spout. This was fun for a while but then he stopped being up for it.
Crispbreads
I heard about these cardboardy wonders from the Tofs Facebook group, which you really must check out if you have a tofling. They're bite-and-dissolve like the the corn snacks but they're a better shape for spreading. When I first discovered these I was overjoyed. I smothered all sorts of things on them - we even managed to smuggle some of the Dreaded Enemy Avocado onto them, which he thoroughly enjoyed (it's a complicated relationship). He loved being in control, biting and nibbling at his own speed. But then he stopped being up for it.
When he stops being up for it, what he does is drop your lovingly prepared whatever straight on the floor, thereby rendering it instantly unusable (depending on how recently I've mopped.) With the crispbreads I was determined not to give up, they were just too good an opportunity.
I got to huge lengths to keep them from going stale and chewy. I break them into small bits and place them in front of him two by two. And sometimes he smiles upon them and puts them into his mouth.
In the course of all this I'm learning that there's no such thing as The Answer. There's no Aha moment, no convenient narrative turning point which makes everything click into place. Every crispbread eaten is progress, but some crispbreads will always end up on the floor. He sets the pace, he's in control.
But things are going in now, and some things are even staying in.
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