Enough About Me ...

So I mother. And as such I converse with others who mother. The topic most frequented, feeding the little love buckets. Do they or don't they get sugar, do you breast feed or are you the guilt ridden mother who feeds them the man's processed formula, how often, how much, fresh food, baby food. Naturally marketing gets into it. Only the finest, most complete, modeled after breast milk, elvin kissed, certified organic, twenty-five essential vitamins, DHA, ARA, mashed by hand into a purified gooby mess. With supporting pictures of pure, creamy colored babies, soft focussed in fluffy towels smiling at their wholesome mother with the eye locking understanding of love ever lasting. End scene. What's left out is the image a mere few years down the road of your perfect angel with palette so pure it could bless bagels at Jenny's birthday party. One hand tucked into the bowl of cool ranch Doritos other hand on the microphone of the rented Karaoke machine singing "Love Shack," with other pure paletted angels that were too nervous to sing alone and the one angel who's too sensitive to fit in doing the obnoxious "Love Shack baby" line. All of them giggling suspiciously as the punch quickly runs low.
So okay, I'm the guilt ridden mother who has corrupted my children's taste buds with that evil substance sugar. I like to think that I understand what the road ahead may involve and I want to teach them moderation. So here little johnny, taste it, mmmm isn't that gooooood. That sweet taste of sugar.