Braxton learned how to take the tray off of his high chair. (Our dining room, if you could call it that, is small as it is, and so by high chair, I mean the kind that sits on a chair and you strap it to the back of the chair. Only his sits on the table becuase we have saddle bar stools . . . no chairs.) Not the entire tray (thank goodness), but inside the tray that hooks onto his chair, is another tray like thing that snaps in to make it easier for cleaning. (I think that made sense (and apparently, this post is going to have a lot of parentheses)).
Of course, the only time he could discover a thing like that would be when he was sitting in it.
And, of course, the only time he would be sitting in it is when we're eating.
Which is, of course, the only time there would be hundreds of peices of cut up grapes and string cheese on it.
And why wouldnt he just feel like throwing it across the room? Of course.
My first thought was to let the dog in. I'm sure every single peice of food would have been found and effectively removed from the floor within minutes. Better get him down from the table before he finds more ways to decorate the kitchen, I thought. So . . . I did.
I picked up the tray and took it to the sink; turned around and, you guessed it . . . he was eating off the floor. I should have stopped him. I really should have. But I couldn't get him to eat one single grape off of that tray. And there he was, eating them off the floor like he was some starving orphan child. And so I let him. He didn't finish them (dangit), but he ate most of them.
He's getting bigger. He's learning new things. He's understanding the things I say to him. He knows how things work. And now, he thinks it's okay to eat things off the floor.