Banana feeding frenzy

Sonny's new best pal has been identified, and it's the banana.

We've never seen him come so utterly alive, see his hands surge forward with such electrifying force, his mouth open so wide, as when we feed him a mashed banana. When he notices either Mum or Pa beginning to peel and crush the fruit, he gets agitated in a hurry. He makes little impatient sounds. His body seizes up and he sways left and right. You'd think he was a Michael Jackson fanatic at the Gloved One's farewell concert.

The thing is, our laundry bill is likely to creep upwards. The little fella is so desperate to chomp down on the gooey snack, he won't allow us to feed him little spoonfuls. Just today - though most of the banana did go down his gullet - a significant part ended up on Sonny's shirt and fingers, Pa's shorts and smeared around the young 'un's lips. And this was only his fifth or sixth banana (we've not been keeping careful count). If this is to be an appetite that is to grow with time, things could get pretty violent. Perhaps we should be investing in infant handcuffs.

Of course, it's just as possible that his banana obsession will fade like John McCain's so-called Palin bounce. After all, we're not using special gourmet bananas here: The ones on sale at our local fruit seller's are sweet enough but not heavenly, as far as we can tell. And, if you think about it, childhood is littered with brief crazes for any number of things, from specific cartoons (Popeye the Sailor Man, in Pa's sepia-toned recollection) to a must-wear outfit to food and even friends. Naturally, as one gets older, the nature of these short-lived fixations can become a little more complex, entering the realm of political philosophy (every other college student has his Marxist phase) and preferred self-help tome.

Some things stick of course. That's why some of us marry, lock ourselves down to a career and so on. As far as Sonny goes, however, we're just wondering what foodstuff is up next.