The first night we got home, we stopped for dinner at a pizza place owned by Guatemalans. He liked the pizza, but was way too tired and crabby to really enjoy it.
Here's what I think of your prunes, mom:
(as you can see, there are WAY more on the bib than ever made it into his mouth)
Why would you try to feed me baby food when I'm obviously a big boy?
And...I like to relax while I eat my meal: