curious exped

I once blogged about how wonderful the world would be if only Charlie would eat Jell-O - one of the few "free" snack foods we have to work with. Back then, he would take pleasure in poking it, squashing it with a spoon or dropping it in his brother's diaper, but nothing more. He refused to eat it.

Fast-forward to about a year later. He's no longer just Jell-O's wiggly break-dance partner. No longer content in simply squeezing a blob of it tightly and watching it ooze slowly from the spaces between his fingers. He's now a chronic Jelloholic. He's obsessed with the slimy stuff. These days it's not uncommon to find Charlie passed out on the couch with fifteen empty cherry Jell-O containers stacked up on his belly like beer cans, his jeans unbuttoned; red gelatin residue stuck under his fingernails.

Jell-O has given all of us a bit of freedom. It's a great option when Charlie's blood sugar is high and he's hungry. For Charlie, he's feeling an independence he's never really known; the freedom to open up the refrigerator and choose to eat something of his own volition. To eat not because we said he had to or because the level of sugar in his blood dictated it, but just because. A spontaneous, unscheduled goopy treat on his own terms.

To eat something without the hassle of mom and dad doing math and saying "come here!" or "let me see your pump" or "I have to bolus you" or "stop moving" as we do so often. I think Charlie's excitement over Jell-O goes far beyond the taste and texture. Now if we can just keep him to under ten a day.

And if you're a kid in Charlie's class content in telling him that gelatin is made from animal bones, I'm ready for you and your desire to rain on my parade.

"Yeah, Charlie, what he said is true. Jell-O does come from bones. Dinosaur bones!"

"Dude! You totally just ate a stegosaurus! You rock!"