Actually, it was rotini

I know a lot of moms who long for that first spaghetti episode with their babies. They envision the oh-so-adorable scenario where Junior runs his hands through the slippery noodles, sticks them in his face, hair or the family pet, flings tomato sauce on the floor and the high chair as it drips from his pudgy little fingers...this is the stuff great family photos are made of. The resulting mess is a small price to pay for the fun times had as parents look on with glee, wishing they, too, could have so much fun with a tray of pasta.

I had a similar vision (minus the family pet). I wanted that perfect spaghetti-stained photo, I wanted to see my daughter's eyes light up as she tried to pick up the squiggly noodles... What I did not want, however, was the mess. I don't enjoy cleaning, no matter how precious the moment that made the mess may have been. Thinking of my daughter dining on her very own plate of red-stained pasta did not bring a smile to my face any more than the idea of you wearing your muddy shoes through my living room would.

So I altered the vision: rotini pasta (the swirly ones) cut into manageable pieces instead of slimy thin spaghetti; a minimum amount of sauce, largely soaked up by chunks of ground beef to minimize splashing; a bib that stretched from her neck to her elbows to her knees; and most importantly, small amounts of food rationed at her parents' discretion. (And of course, no spaghetti dinner is complete without garlic bread.) The resulting scenario was just as fun, just as entertaining, and just as camera-worthy.

And the best part? My mop and I didn't have to spend a whole lot of time together when it was over.