We went today to a session on weaning organized by the Health Visitor. Exhibit A: a carrot, a sweet potato, two parsnips, a pear, and an apple. ‘These are all good for pureeing’, the HV intoned. Although the Health Visitor seemed hazy on the details of weaning and the talk she was giving (‘Don’t give your baby a milk feed before you offer him food’, ‘He should be on three meals a day by the time he’s six months old’), she was clear on one detail: purees only until six months. We are only allowed to introduce finger foods when Charlie is able to sit up with minimal support, and when he can introduce food into his own mouth.

‘But Charlie can sit up unsupported now, and he’s 21 weeks’, I said, proudly showing off Charlie lolling around happily on my lap, displaying all his wondrous motor skills. Never mind that my Health Visitor then went on to confuse BLW (where the baby feeds him or herself with the same kinds of foods that the adults in the family are eating) with the lumpier textures of stage two of traditional weaning, she was confident that Charlie wouldn’t be ready for solid solids (as opposed to mushy solids) for another five weeks. I didn’t dare tell her about the toast. The toast even had butter on it…

Anyway, we tried some baby rice this afternoon. Not really BLW, but in tribute to my Health Visitor, and because Charlie has been waking more and more frequently at night. Conventional wisdom says that this is an indication that he’s ready to be weaned. BLW wisdom says that it’s a false sign of readiness that won’t be cured by tipping food down his throat. My wisdom is that I’ll try anything to get a good night’s sleep.

I mixed some of the baby rice with breastmilk and gave it to him on a spoon. After that initial split second reaction of utter disgust he was eagerly trying to cram the spoon in his mouth, threatening to scream every time I took it away from him to reload it. So I guess you could say it was a success. Charlie could half-manage the spoon himself if it was pointed the right way, so it wasn’t so very very far from being baby-led, anyway. At least I didn’t have to pretend to be an aeroplane just to get the food into his mouth.