I was eating a bowl of chicken soup the other day, when Bobby wandered by and decided he wanted some.  I don't quite trust him to not make a huge mess with something like that, so I put him on my lap and slowly gave him sips with my spoon.

There's an old joke that came to mind:

"A guy's driving through Vermont, and it's a pretty rural part of the state, lots of farms.  And as he's driving, he comes across a peculiar sight: there's a farmer, holding a pig up to a tree, so that the pig can eat apples off the tree.

"'Hey, Mister,' the guy calls out.  'Doesn't it take a long time to feed a pig that way?'

"'The farmer looks up at the pig, looks over at the guy, looks up at the pig, looks back at the guy, and shrugs.  'What's time to a pig?'"

I never got that joke when I was growing up; I see the absurdity, but there's something very relaxed about it, too; I like it.  I just imagine this farmer, without anything else he needs to be doing, taking the time to provide his pig a good lunch.  If he had higher priorities, there are other ways to solve the problem, but he doesn't.

There was a time in my life when sitting around and slowly feeding a child would've really frustrated me; I would've been thinking about all the other things I could've been doing.  It was good to realize that yeah, there were other things which needed to be done, but there was plenty of time for doing them, no big rush, nothing to stress over, and if something didn't get done, there was always tomorrow.  If something more urgent had come up, I could've put him down and taken care of the other thing, but nothing did, so I got to just sit and enjoy the moment with my son.