A few weeks ago, my daughter started solids and things were ticking along quite nicely.
And then, because babies love to keep things humble, she threw in a few extra variables.
She got constipated.
She started teething.
And for a few days, she was generally quite fussy and unhappy, especially when solids were involved.
Suddenly, the baby who had been doing quite well was closing her mouth, turning her head away, and making it very clear that she was not interested.
Which, honestly, felt fair enough.
Because when babies are uncomfortable, eating can feel harder. If their tummy is off, their mouth is sore, or they’re just generally not feeling like themselves, it makes sense that food might be less appealing for a little while.
It doesn’t always mean something has gone wrong. Sometimes it just means the context has changed.
So I didn’t want to start chasing her around with spoons, pulling out the aeroplane routine, or turning mealtimes into a strange little performance where we all lose dignity.
I just kept offering.
I offered foods that might help with her tummy, and I kept putting them out in simple, low-pressure ways — on the tray, in a bowl, on a spoon. No fuss. No pressure. Just opportunities to explore if she felt up to it.
Some days, she wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.
And then today, she picked the spoons back up and started self-feeding again like she had before.
Because she is very much Miss Independent and would, in fact, prefer to do it herself. Which is completely fine by me.
It was a good reminder that feeding progress is very rarely linear. Babies move in and out of phases. Their comfort, mood, regulation, and physical feelings all play a role in how they show up at mealtimes.
A few off days doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten how to eat. It doesn’t mean you’ve done anything wrong. And it doesn’t mean you need to panic and fix it immediately.
Sometimes they just need a bit of space, a bit of time, and the chance to come back to it when they’re feeling better.
And almost always, they do.