When my younger sister was born, my mother tells of how I was loathe to relinquish the favored position of youngest. I expressed this mostly in a desire to never grow up. I wouldn't potty train. I always wanted to be held. And I would tell my mother that I wanted to be fed 'like a little birdie.' I wasn't aware at that point that little birdies eat their parents' vomit.
So, once again, I shouldn't be surprised that dearest Kathleen is just a chip off the old rock. Or perhaps a boulder. Because not only is Kathleen singing right now in her high chair, she is also not eating her oatmeal. Kathleen and I have oatmeal for breakfast every morning, and she has no problem with oatmeal. She likes oatmeal. She can't wait to have breakfast.
Our only difficulty is that she doesn't like to eat it herself. Kathleen is perfectly capable of feeding herself. She doesn't even make messes any more. However, everyone has preferences, and ours differ. Often. So once again, my morning schedule is delayed because of my two year-old who wishes she were one. Where is the child that insists that they can do it all themselves? I haven't seen any here.