Tonight I fed a baby boy a whole container of yogurt. He is an outstanding human being who deserves every bite. I gave him a perfectly proportioned bite each time, but each one unique in its own way. A bit of hefty cup knowledge for the tummy. I could have accomplished this task with an infinite number of dipping styles delivered to a mouth eagerly waiting each bite. Each bite a bit different from the rest and each perfectly measured to fit his waiting eager little mouth.
Each of my deliveries was accepted or rejected in a new and different way. A movement of his head to the left, little pursed lips, a spit or hands waving like crazy in the air above his head. He took every bite as quickly as he could and always wanting more
Those first bites were readily accepted and he worked very hard for each one. Each was thoroughly devoured and ingested into an eager and waiting stomach. But then towards the final dealings in the bottom of the cup, his enthusiasm waned. He took the last few bites only after I rattled my spoon in the cup. I could tell this sparked a long a go memory in his primitive little brain forcing him to open his mouth like a hungry bird and gulp down the last bite. I tricked him and he didn't know he'd been betrayed.
It's those last few bites in an aged life that some are unable to embrace, whether through stubborness or in stasis and then failing to thrive. Hopefully, someone will be kind and rattle a spoon in a yogurt cup in my final hours.