Daddy-led Weaning

Every meal time is, quite frankly, a splatterfest. It comes with the territory of baby-led weaning. You join us as W arrives home. I am on my hands and knees, wiping away a mixture of drool and toast from the highchair. Perhaps I should call it 'doast'.*

W: Did he eat much?
Me: Pretty good - three pieces of cheese on toast and at least two more have been sucked to within an inch of their lives.
W: And a few more on the floor.
Me: There were more...
W: But...
Me: I ate them.

W smiles

Me: (defensively) It was clean and... they were only there a short time - I followed the five-second rule.**
W: Heh!
Me: Well, some get thrown down before he's touched them.
W: Fair enough.
Me: And I don't eat them if they've been sucked.
W: You might do one day. Friends tell me it's a true sign of parenthood.
Me: Oh, how our standards change.
W: You'll be eating the sucked bits in no time.
Me: And then I suppose I'll only be ruling out the regurgitated bits.
W: Even then...
Me: No! No way.

You have to draw a line somewhere. 

Notes  
*Perhaps I shouldn't.
** For more on this 'rule' see the New York Times, Wikipedia and Mythbusters. Granny and Nanny should not read these links; here are some fluffy kittens instead.