Thursday, 6 November 2014


piggly wiggly, feeding tube, langdon hall,
THE VERY PICKY PIGGLY WIGGLY, cleverly pantomiming the act of eating.

I have made no secret of the fact that my grand-daughter, Piggly Wiggly, is a picky eater. In fact, let's be honest: she's a freakish borderline infant anorexic whose resistance to nourishment has driven her first-time parents up the wall, over the roof and down the other side to where Hell is located. (I'm told it looks a lot like Brampton.) And because I have shared the horror stories of gruelling 2 a.m. eye-dropper feeding sessions and doctors visits and feeding tubes with a relentlessness bordering on reader abuse, many of you now often ask, "How's Piggly? Is she eating?" (Honestly, I can't tell you how much your kindness means to me. I keep it close to my frantic heart when I visit her and measure her little wrists and ankles with my fingers and murmur, "Hmm, seems healthy; maybe it's going to be okay!")

Anyway, since you're all practically Piggly's surrogate grandparents now, I am happy to report that the food is making contact with her face and, although she is still the tiniest ten-month-old imaginable, she is also heartrendingly happy and adorable, so I dunno ... maybe the pureed peas are making their way into her system by osmosis? I never paid much attention in Science class but I'm pretty sure smearing food all over yourself is every bit as good as applying it directly to your stomach, if not better.