Erin Just Wouldn't Eat
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Erin Just Wouldn't Eat

 Rhys Milsom
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 Rhys Milsom
Erin Just Wouldn't Eat
by Rhys Milsom  FollowFollow
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Rhys lives in the Rhondda Valleys in South Wales, UK. He has been mistaken, on several occasions, to have hypertrichosis.
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Erin Just Wouldn't Eat
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THE SUN CREPT THROUGH THE BLINDS and eased Mick awake. He blinked his eyes, hard, and rubbed his hands over them. His shirt, trousers and tie were set on the dressing table stool. Throughout their ten year marriage, Faye had always got up half an hour earlier than Mick on his work days. She’d get the things he’d need ready so he wouldn’t have to rush. She’d dress Erin, their daughter, and take her downstairs during this time, too. Mick was such a proud dad. There was a time when he thought he’d never be one. He smiled at the thought of his family – they were precious to him. They were what he lived for. He pushed himself out of bed, got dressed and went downstairs.

Mick could hear the radio and Faye singing and chatting to Erin in the kitchen. He opened the door and Faye turned around.

“Hello, sleepyhead. Here’s your coffee. Just as you like it.”

Mick smiled, kissed her on the forehead and took the mug. Erin was sitting at the kitchen table in her high-chair, her arms resting on the sides of the chair. Mick leant down and pushed her beautiful brown hair out of her big blue eyes.

“You fed her yet?” he asked.

“No, not yet. I’ll do it in a minute. She’s content sitting there anyway. Aren’t you, my beautiful girl?” Faye took Erin’s hand and rubbed it gently.

Mick took a sip of the sweet coffee and watched Faye flit round the kitchen.

“Will you reach the baby food for me please, Mick? I’m too short,” she said, laughing.

Mick passed her a jar of it and unscrewed the top. Faye dunked a spoon into it and pushed the spoon into Erin’s wide-open mouth. The gunk just oozed back onto the spoon. She tried again but Erin wouldn’t eat it. She wanted her own way. Mick sighed.

“Give it here,” Mick said.

Faye had always been a soft-touch with Erin. Mick was sure that Faye let her do whatever she wanted when he wasn’t around. He wanted Erin to respect them, as her parents, so he was stricter with her. He took the spoon out of Faye’s hand and slowly put it into his daughter’s mouth.

“Here we go, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna feed you.”

Erin still didn’t swallow. Mick collected the mess trickling down her chin and tried again. The food became stuck on her lips. Mick became agitated. It was too early for this. He forced the food into her mouth. It became so full and the orange mess dribbled down the sides of her mouth.

“Swallow! Swallow! Swallow!” he shouted. He rammed the spoon between her lips. As he did so, his daughter’s head nudged back from the force. More of the food leaked down Erin’s hard, plastic chin and the rubber lips became sticky with the food. Mick got another spoonful and frantically pushed it into Erin’s mouth. Her big blue eyes stared lifelessly at Mick. The food plopped onto her starch-white dress and a curl of her hair fell to shield one eye.

“Eat it! Eat it!” shrieked Mick, as he forced the spoon further into the mouth with such force that Erin toppled off the high-chair and onto the kitchen floor. Her small body rattled as it hit the floor. The voice button on Erin’s back switched on as it connected with the ground and the robotic voice repeated over and over:

“Hi, my name’s Erin. What’s your name?”

“Hi, my name’s Erin. What’s your name?”

“Hi, my name’s Erin. What’s your name?”

Faye screamed. Mick gasped. The baby food crashed and splattered onto the kitchen floor. They both rushed to Erin but Faye got there first. She swooped their daughter up off the floor and cradled her. Mick put his arms around his family and his face crumpled into a mask of tears. Faye smoothed her husband’s face and kissed him gently on the cheek.

“It’s OK, honey. It’s OK. Accidents happen.”

Mick buried his face in Erin’s baby-food-dress. He planted a kiss on each of her rosy, cold cheeks and then kissed his wife on the forehead.

“I love you both so much,” he said.

“We know, we know,” Faye whispered into his ear.

They both looked lovingly at their daughter and Faye placed her back in the high-chair. Erin was still speaking.

“Hi, my name’s Erin. What’s your name?”

“Hi, my name’s Erin. What’s your name?”

“Hi, my name’s Erin. What’s your name?”

2 comments

Discussion

  4 months ago
I had a "Baby Alive" that could eat back in the 70's. The IT guys that designed Erin clearly screwed up.
  29 months ago
Well. That's a creepy one!
 

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