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Fatherhood is a Gamble

My daughter is like a slot machine: old people love her, she makes 
a lot of loud noises and I keep pouring money into her.  But lately, parenting is feeling even more like a gamble because she won’t let me hand her food directly. I have to put whatever I want her to eat on the tray of her high chair, then she picks it up herself, inspects it and decides if she’ll accept it. It’s like handing a blackjack dealer money in Vegas: sometimes some of what I give her comes back to me, but mostly I just get back shit.
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