Sliced Bananas

Gus, my son, is two-years-old and remarkably different from last year when he was the inspiration for many of my slices. For starters, he talks all the time now in full understandable sentences. Last year, he had lonesome words, which he’d typically shout when they were just the right words for something. Eureka!

Looking for inspiration, I momentarily study Gus like a scientific specimen. He’s focused on eating his breakfast, sliced bananas on peanut butter toast. He’s like a fancier, updated version of his younger self–my split second thought escapes me when the sliced bananas start falling from his toast. I smile to myself. Gus is biting into his toast but the problem is he’s holding it upside down. Plop, plop, plop…bananas fall and collect on his plate.

“Why they not staying on, Mommy?” His small inquiring voice squeezes my heart.

“Here, let me help you.” I reach over and gently turn his hands so that the toast does a flip. He’s delighted by this simple fix and giggles. I feel my heart squeeze again. I place the bananas back on the peanut butter.

“All set,” I say.

“Thank you, Mommy.”

“You bet.”

Gus opens his mouth wide around the toast and takes a big bite. I’m going to miss this version of him.


4 thoughts on “Sliced Bananas”

  1. I can just imagine this little guy! Your description is delightful–and it reminds me of looking with the same wistfulness at my nieces and nephews, remembering those younger versions.


  2. This story made my heart squeeze! My one year old has been grappling with a similar problem when self feeding with a spoon… What a treasure this slice is, it has really shown me how valuable putting small moments into writing can be.


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