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Trial and error is expensive
Welcome to motherhood
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Having a baby is costly in ways I did not foresee. Of course, I knew there would be added expenses in medical bills, childcare, diapers, formula and clothing. But I’m surprised at the amount of money my family wastes on things that don’t seem to be to my baby’s liking.
For example, we’re on our third sippy cup trial because the two cups I previously bought and presented to my daughter, time after time, ended up on the floor. Despite countless attempts on my part, Reese could not be persuaded to actually drink from the cups. With my help, she’d bring them to her mouth, tip them up once, wrench them from my hand and launch them across the room. Well, OK, maybe not across the room, but as far as her little arm could hurl them. I’d retrieve the cups and we’d try again … and again.
It struck me that perhaps she didn’t care for the organic apple juice/water mixture I’d been serving her, but I’m pretty sure she never even really got a good taste of it before relenting to the hurling/retrieving routine.
I’m hoping the third time will be a charm because I’d like to stop spending money on sippy cups. And while I’m at it, I’d also like to stop shelling out for organic produce that ends up in my dog’s mouth.
Reese is still eating mostly fruits and vegetables, and in order to diversify her diet and tastes, I try to make sure she has a wide variety to choose from; however, her preferences seem to vary quite a bit from meal to meal. One day, she loves cantaloupe. The kid can’t seem to get enough of it. While watching her gobble up hunk after hunk of the juicy orange fruit, I’ll make a mental note to cut up some more. The next day, after setting several slices on her highchair tray, I’ll watch in astonishment as she stares directly at me and, one by one, feeds the pieces of cantaloupe to our dog. She smiles as she does it.
The same goes for strawberries. On certain evenings, the whole bottom half of Reese’s face will be stained red following a juicy feast. The very next day, I can’t persuade her to eat a single berry. The white kitchen floor, however, looks very colorful when dotted with slices of crimson fruit. It’s frustrating — and messy — to say the least.
 Trial and error seems to be a bigger part of parenthood than I’d expected. I suppose these adventures with sippy cups and food are just preparing me for the big “experiments” I’ll face down the road — which disciplinary tactics work, which sports and activities Reese will try out and give up before settling on something she enjoys, which crowd she’ll choose to associate with in her school-aged years and so on. Getting some experience now with these hit-or-miss situations likely will benefit both of us sooner or later, though hopefully sooner.   

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