how to get your baby to hate syrup...

since Dylan is now over 14 months, i have been trying gradually to feed him more solids so he will want his bottle less. it's not going too well. not that he doesn't like normal food, he does, it's me being diligent about feeding him solids constantly that isn't on the fast track. but in one of my attempts last week to have him eat big people food, i decided it would be a great idea to make him french toast. Brett was home from work that day anyways so i wanted to make him a good breakfast too. and since Dylan needed a bath anyways, i thought it would be a fun way for him to get some good food and also to have fun playing in the syrup. (sidenote, i never like Dylan to get dirty, let alone sticky, because i am ocd about it, so this was kind of a big deal)
i was so excited. i thought this was going to be a ball for him and so fun for us to watch. and it was...at first.

see that smile? that look of satisfaction and that twinkle in his eye that says "wow mom! you never let me play like this!! this is awesome! you are awesome!"
i was awesome. the awesomest. and i was proud. proud that he was loving it, and more proud that i was letting that syrup drip down his arms, his legs, into his shirt, into his hair and ears (yes that happened). i was letting it all go so this kid could have a fun time in the sugary syrup. go me!
but then, just as i was getting used to the fact that this wasn't so bad, thinking that this is actually good for him, that twinkle in his eye started to change...

he was dunzo. he went from being the happiest baby to ever play in syrup, to wanting out of that chair. i didn't really understand it at first, but then, i realized why...

i really didn't think this whole process through, as you can see. notice how his shirt sticks to his chin and neck and his hands. why i didn't think i should've probably taken his clothes off except his diaper is beyond. i guess i was just too excited about letting him play in the dumb stuff.
so, after 10 minutes of  Brett and i pulling and tugging,and Dylan screaming and whining, we finally got his clothes off (luckily without cutting them because i had the scissors on hand) and threw him into the tub...

pretty sure that tub was my saving grace because at that point this kid wanted to strangle me i'm sure. you can't tell from this cheeky smile of his, but a few seconds before, while i was carrying him up to the tub, the fire that radiated from his eyes burned into my soul. but once his little bottom touched the water, all was forgiven and all his hatred and judging was out the door.
thank heaven for baths :)
ps, we tried feeding him french toast on Sunday, this time with him in his high chair and us holding a plate with his food on it, and he barely even touched it. perfect. my plan pretty much backfired on me in every way possible. i didn't think his grudge for french toast would last this long. i didn't even think babies remembered that far back (8 days?) well, one way or another, this kid will learn to love syrup again. just give it some time i guess. maybe if i feed him french toast while he is taking a bath? yeah, i think i'll try that next.