Lentils and Sweet Potatoes (part 1 of 1, complete)
Friday, 2 October 2026 20:18![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dialecticdreamerLentils and Sweet Potatoes
By Dialecticdreamer/Sarah Williams
Part 1 of 1, complete
Word count (story only): 1107
[April of 2017]
:: Elisabeth and Graham struggle to fill Wren’s tummy on breast milk alone. They pick and choose first foods with a particular goal-- nearly table-ready vegan jambalaya. Part of the Finn Family stories in the Polychrome Heroics universe. The story was prompted bylibrarygeek for the September 2026 Feathering the Nest prompt call and is sponsored by librarygeek with my deepest thanks, in memory of Rabbi Michelle. May her memory be a blessing! ::
Elisabeth sighed as Wren suckled at their mother’s empty breast. A particularly sharp movement of the tiny jaws, bone covered by thin layers of gums, made the doctor gasp. “Graham, we’re going to need to start Wren on solid foods a few weeks earlier than we’d planned. They’re five months old, so it’s safe, but I have to say that I feel like a wrung out dishrag at the end of every feeding.”
Graham nodded. “What would you like? It’s breakfast time, and oatmeal is easy. I’ll just blenderize some of the rolled oats that we use for multigrain bread.”
“No,” Elisabeth grinned. “I have to eat some of the sample and so do you, just because that’s what will show Wren that it’s safe. And… Rolled oats themselves are awful, compared to real steel cut oats.”
Laughing, Graham nodded. “Very good points, both. What do you have in mind?”
“For this morning, just bake a sweet potato in the microwave. We can purree some of the flesh with cold water to help cool it off. But… The next thing is big. Can we make some vegan jambalaya?”
“That’s a lot of separate ingredients.” Graham rubbed his wife’s shoulder. “You’re missing someone in particular?”
Elisabeth shook her head. “I’ll tell you later. Cancer sucks.”
He nodded. “That’s fine. How about trying red lentils? They’re high in protein, and we can eat them plain for a few days before adding a little fat for Wren.”
“A lot of fat,” Elisabeth corrected. “Avocadoes would make a good new food for them, too. I’ve lost five pounds in five months, just trying to keep up with the baby’s appetite.”
Graham paused. “We could’ve started them on solid foods a month ago, dear. We’ll be safe enough if we stick to one food at a time for most of a week before adding the next. So, jambalaya will take a few weeks.”
At lunch, Wren’s first taste of very thinned sweet potato made the baby’s glas eyes widen dramatically. They lunged, following the small spoon as Elisabeth pulled it away.
“It’s a hit,” Graham declared. “Unequivocally.”
Elisabeth sighed in relief. “That’s good, because I’m running on E and they’re still hungry.”
“We’ve got a plan, we’ve got menus, and we’ve got the patience to get through this, too,” the Irishman soothed.
“You’re not the one that Edison gnawed on like a puppy cutting milk teeth,” she drawled. “Wren is likely to do the same thing the longer they’re still feeling hungry at the breast.”
On Wren’s six-month “birthday,” Graham carried a covered bowl up to Wren’s bedroom, where Elisabeth sat in the glider chair with her feet on the matching footstool. “You might want to take Wren away from the lunch counter early,” he suggested, grinning impishly.
Elisabeth sniffed. “Jambalaya?”
“The only new food in it is the bell pepper. That’s pureed this time, sorry for the change in texture, Dear.” Graham set the bowl on the table to Elisabeth’s right and uncovered the upper bowl with a flourish.
“Avocado is not authentic to jambalaya,” she mock-scolded, but was laughing so hard that he could barely make out the words.
“We all know that you love them. It’s an apology for the pureed peppers,” Graham admitted. He kissed his fingertips and brushed them over Wren’s forehead. “Come on, Poppet, let’s see if you like this, too.”
Elisabeth settled Wren, sitting up with their back against her belly and her sore breasts, beaming. “If this works, we’re halfway to proper table food.”
Graham rocked one hand in the air. “Maybe a bit closer than half, if we save wheat for nearer their real birthday.”
Already lifting the spoon, Elisabeth flashed a grin. “If this works, I can finally stop doubling down on servings and desserts, trying to keep up with our little cryptid.”
“That’s accurate, but not easy to explain,” Graham laughed. “I’m going to stick with Poppet.”
Elisabeth took a bite of the jambalaya, with a tiny wedge of avocado on it. She relaxed, savoring the taste. “Oh, I hope you like this one, Wren. This is almost exactly what I was thinking of when I mentioned it, actually.”
Graham took the spoon from her and gathered a small bite for Wren. “Wren, this is jambalaya, mostly. It can be spicier, but that’s for later.”
Wren had their gaze fixed on Graham, mouth wide open. They leaned forward eagerly. He laughed, and waited for the baby’s position to be stable before offering the tiny bite.
Wren’s tongue worked, chubby cheeks flexing, and opened their mouth again immediately.
Elisabeth studied the bowl. “I think you should’ve made more,” she warned.
“I think so, too,” Graham agreed. He continued to feed Wren, but after the fifth bite, he scooped up a larger amount and offered it playfully to Elisabeth. She closed her mouth around the spoon, still smiling.
By the time Wren had emptied the bowl, they were barely awake. Their head rested on Graham’s shoulder, chubby fist a few inches from the baby’s pink lips. “That was about three times more than I expected them to eat,” Graham murmured.
“Not me. Wren can probably eat half their entire body weight in a single meal,” Elisabeth warned. Her stomach rumbled. “Is there more in the kitchen?”
“Sure. Do you want me to bring you some or do you want to come down?”
“Down,” she answered immediately. “Distracting Wren means that they move their head to follow things. Ouch. That’s why I’ve been feeding them here.”
“That,” Graham agreed dryly, “and the Great Blanket Meltdown when you tried draping to cover while nursing in the living room.”
Elisabeth snickered as she pushed to her feet. “I’m going to eat at least a pint of jambalaya,” she warned her husband. “And then I’ll decide if I want seconds.”
“There’s enough for thirds, even if all the kids were present,” Graham laughed. He settled Wren in the crib, then flicked on the baby monitor. He clipped the handset to his belt. “Oh, I was thinking… Sweet potatoes and red lentils, and when the pediatrician gives the okay, scrambled eggs on top?”
“With traces of garam masala,” Elisabeth pounced on the idea, grinning. “Let’s go through the family cookbook for more ideas.”
“After you eat. Wren’s really, finally full, and now it’s your turn,” Graham cautioned her.
“If they sleep for an hour, I’ll be surprised,” Elisabeth whispered. “They’ve been spending more time eating than they have sleeping, and I can’t wait to see more of their personality now that we’ve solved the empty fuel tank problem.”
Graham kissed her temple. “Me, too.”
30
By Dialecticdreamer/Sarah Williams
Part 1 of 1, complete
Word count (story only): 1107
[April of 2017]
:: Elisabeth and Graham struggle to fill Wren’s tummy on breast milk alone. They pick and choose first foods with a particular goal-- nearly table-ready vegan jambalaya. Part of the Finn Family stories in the Polychrome Heroics universe. The story was prompted by
librarygeek for the September 2026 Feathering the Nest prompt call and is sponsored by librarygeek with my deepest thanks, in memory of Rabbi Michelle. May her memory be a blessing! ::Elisabeth sighed as Wren suckled at their mother’s empty breast. A particularly sharp movement of the tiny jaws, bone covered by thin layers of gums, made the doctor gasp. “Graham, we’re going to need to start Wren on solid foods a few weeks earlier than we’d planned. They’re five months old, so it’s safe, but I have to say that I feel like a wrung out dishrag at the end of every feeding.”
Graham nodded. “What would you like? It’s breakfast time, and oatmeal is easy. I’ll just blenderize some of the rolled oats that we use for multigrain bread.”
“No,” Elisabeth grinned. “I have to eat some of the sample and so do you, just because that’s what will show Wren that it’s safe. And… Rolled oats themselves are awful, compared to real steel cut oats.”
Laughing, Graham nodded. “Very good points, both. What do you have in mind?”
“For this morning, just bake a sweet potato in the microwave. We can purree some of the flesh with cold water to help cool it off. But… The next thing is big. Can we make some vegan jambalaya?”
“That’s a lot of separate ingredients.” Graham rubbed his wife’s shoulder. “You’re missing someone in particular?”
Elisabeth shook her head. “I’ll tell you later. Cancer sucks.”
He nodded. “That’s fine. How about trying red lentils? They’re high in protein, and we can eat them plain for a few days before adding a little fat for Wren.”
“A lot of fat,” Elisabeth corrected. “Avocadoes would make a good new food for them, too. I’ve lost five pounds in five months, just trying to keep up with the baby’s appetite.”
Graham paused. “We could’ve started them on solid foods a month ago, dear. We’ll be safe enough if we stick to one food at a time for most of a week before adding the next. So, jambalaya will take a few weeks.”
At lunch, Wren’s first taste of very thinned sweet potato made the baby’s glas eyes widen dramatically. They lunged, following the small spoon as Elisabeth pulled it away.
“It’s a hit,” Graham declared. “Unequivocally.”
Elisabeth sighed in relief. “That’s good, because I’m running on E and they’re still hungry.”
“We’ve got a plan, we’ve got menus, and we’ve got the patience to get through this, too,” the Irishman soothed.
“You’re not the one that Edison gnawed on like a puppy cutting milk teeth,” she drawled. “Wren is likely to do the same thing the longer they’re still feeling hungry at the breast.”
On Wren’s six-month “birthday,” Graham carried a covered bowl up to Wren’s bedroom, where Elisabeth sat in the glider chair with her feet on the matching footstool. “You might want to take Wren away from the lunch counter early,” he suggested, grinning impishly.
Elisabeth sniffed. “Jambalaya?”
“The only new food in it is the bell pepper. That’s pureed this time, sorry for the change in texture, Dear.” Graham set the bowl on the table to Elisabeth’s right and uncovered the upper bowl with a flourish.
“Avocado is not authentic to jambalaya,” she mock-scolded, but was laughing so hard that he could barely make out the words.
“We all know that you love them. It’s an apology for the pureed peppers,” Graham admitted. He kissed his fingertips and brushed them over Wren’s forehead. “Come on, Poppet, let’s see if you like this, too.”
Elisabeth settled Wren, sitting up with their back against her belly and her sore breasts, beaming. “If this works, we’re halfway to proper table food.”
Graham rocked one hand in the air. “Maybe a bit closer than half, if we save wheat for nearer their real birthday.”
Already lifting the spoon, Elisabeth flashed a grin. “If this works, I can finally stop doubling down on servings and desserts, trying to keep up with our little cryptid.”
“That’s accurate, but not easy to explain,” Graham laughed. “I’m going to stick with Poppet.”
Elisabeth took a bite of the jambalaya, with a tiny wedge of avocado on it. She relaxed, savoring the taste. “Oh, I hope you like this one, Wren. This is almost exactly what I was thinking of when I mentioned it, actually.”
Graham took the spoon from her and gathered a small bite for Wren. “Wren, this is jambalaya, mostly. It can be spicier, but that’s for later.”
Wren had their gaze fixed on Graham, mouth wide open. They leaned forward eagerly. He laughed, and waited for the baby’s position to be stable before offering the tiny bite.
Wren’s tongue worked, chubby cheeks flexing, and opened their mouth again immediately.
Elisabeth studied the bowl. “I think you should’ve made more,” she warned.
“I think so, too,” Graham agreed. He continued to feed Wren, but after the fifth bite, he scooped up a larger amount and offered it playfully to Elisabeth. She closed her mouth around the spoon, still smiling.
By the time Wren had emptied the bowl, they were barely awake. Their head rested on Graham’s shoulder, chubby fist a few inches from the baby’s pink lips. “That was about three times more than I expected them to eat,” Graham murmured.
“Not me. Wren can probably eat half their entire body weight in a single meal,” Elisabeth warned. Her stomach rumbled. “Is there more in the kitchen?”
“Sure. Do you want me to bring you some or do you want to come down?”
“Down,” she answered immediately. “Distracting Wren means that they move their head to follow things. Ouch. That’s why I’ve been feeding them here.”
“That,” Graham agreed dryly, “and the Great Blanket Meltdown when you tried draping to cover while nursing in the living room.”
Elisabeth snickered as she pushed to her feet. “I’m going to eat at least a pint of jambalaya,” she warned her husband. “And then I’ll decide if I want seconds.”
“There’s enough for thirds, even if all the kids were present,” Graham laughed. He settled Wren in the crib, then flicked on the baby monitor. He clipped the handset to his belt. “Oh, I was thinking… Sweet potatoes and red lentils, and when the pediatrician gives the okay, scrambled eggs on top?”
“With traces of garam masala,” Elisabeth pounced on the idea, grinning. “Let’s go through the family cookbook for more ideas.”
“After you eat. Wren’s really, finally full, and now it’s your turn,” Graham cautioned her.
“If they sleep for an hour, I’ll be surprised,” Elisabeth whispered. “They’ve been spending more time eating than they have sleeping, and I can’t wait to see more of their personality now that we’ve solved the empty fuel tank problem.”
Graham kissed her temple. “Me, too.”
30
Tags:
(no subject)
Saturday, 3 October 2026 02:07 (UTC)They are!
Saturday, 3 October 2026 03:02 (UTC)Re: They are!
Saturday, 3 October 2026 04:00 (UTC)That leads me to wonder what about their combined genetics led to 6 of 7 kids being soups. And it would be interesting to see how Drew's kids turn out, if he decides to have them.
Re: They are!
Saturday, 3 October 2026 04:16 (UTC)Drew will end up with natural, adopted, and foster kids, eventually.
Re: They are!
Saturday, 3 October 2026 07:53 (UTC)Well, he is.
>>They don't know details, but that appetite alone tells them they have another soup.<<
Yep.
>>That leads me to wonder what about their combined genetics led to 6 of 7 kids being soups.<<
Same as two blonds having redheaded kids: each parent had one copy of a gene that needs two to manifest. It's why they're subclinical rather than soups themselves: a lot of partials. One copy of the redhead gene won't turn hair, or not much of it, but sometimes the other parts still show like the pale skin.
>> And it would be interesting to see how Drew's kids turn out, if he decides to have them.<<
Depends on the partner.
Re: They are!
Saturday, 3 October 2026 10:49 (UTC)Re: They are!
Saturday, 3 October 2026 07:51 (UTC)Re: They are!
Saturday, 3 October 2026 10:55 (UTC)I fed my kids real (unsalted, unsugared, un-garlicked) food from the start, too, especially when I realized how much starch is added to pureed meats. At home, I didn't have to worry about that kind of hidden ingredient.
Yes ...
Saturday, 3 October 2026 07:49 (UTC)I've known some on solid food within a month, same reason, milk wasn't enough. Some bodies are just different.
>>“If this works, we’re halfway to proper table food.”<<
Let Wren try chunks of things that are easy to grasp, like banana pieces. Babies are messy feeding themselves, but it's good for independence.
Re: Yes ...
Saturday, 3 October 2026 10:56 (UTC)Re: Yes ...
Saturday, 3 October 2026 12:13 (UTC)One kid still developed an allergy, but it took years.
(no subject)
Saturday, 3 October 2026 13:27 (UTC)GRIN
Saturday, 3 October 2026 13:50 (UTC)Shiva announcement
Wednesday, 28 October 2026 15:30 (UTC)"It is traditional to bring food to a shiva to share with the family. Please bring dairy, vegetarian, or dessert items. No casseroles please."
💔💙
Re: Shiva announcement
Wednesday, 28 October 2026 15:58 (UTC)