When I was little it took me forever to eat breakfast. It still does sometimes because I developed the habit of chewing my oatmeal. I would usually take a large spoonful with a little milk and then chew and chew...and chew, until I was satisfied that I wouldn't choke, and then swallow. This process was usually followed by a swig of juice or water and then the task of the next bite was commenced and repeated.
My mother was very patient with me. She occasionally would take care of the spoon loading and lifting when I got tired of it. While she waited for me to finish processing she would teach me nursery rhymes or simple songs. On of my favorites was "How Much is That Doggy in the Window?"
I'm pretty sure my mother's rendition wasn't as glamorous as this one.
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