What I'd Like to Tell You

I'd like to tell you that we tried carrots yesterday, and that it was a huge success.

I'd also like to tell you that the little guy ate them up like crazy and certainly did not make gagging noises with every bite.

I'd even like to tell you that carrot mush was not repeatedly spit in my direction with short, violent puffs of air.

And that the whole thing went as well as, or even better than, this picture suggests.
I'd really like to tell you that when the carrot ordeal was finished, I did not need to strip down both the baby and myself for some serious stain removal work.

And that there was no need for me to clean carrots from my child's nose with Q-Tips. And that if there had been such a need, he wouldn't have screamed bloody murder throughout the execution of said task.

Finally, I'd like to tell you that once all carrots were removed from all bodily surfaces (his and mine) and the baby and I were redressed in clean clothes, he most certainly did not douse our new outfits in orange spit up.

But if I told you all that, then I'd be lying.

So, instead, I'll stick with this:

We tried carrots yesterday.