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“You need a class to tell you how to feed your baby?” my dad laughed down the line to London, where I live. I was en route to a workshop on introducing my six-month-old daughter to solid food and was hoping to find clarity on which approach to use: traditional purées or this thing called “baby-led weaning” I’d heard English moms chatting about. Some swore by it, but others derided it as just another silly offshoot of bohemian urban parenting. It was like breast versus bottle 2.0, and I wanted to know more.

Search American parenting sites for “baby-led weaning” and most of what you’ll find is advice on ending breastfeeding when the child chooses. But here in Britain, the term commonly means letting babies feed themselves from their very first mouthful of solid food at six months. No runny rice cereal, no applesauce, no airplane spoon games. Instead they start exclusively on easy-to-grab finger foods like steamed carrot sticks, hunks of banana, and even skinless chicken drumsticks, then progress at their own pace to more complex dishes. They share in family mealtimes and in the process, the theory goes, become more adventurous eaters comfortable with a variety of tastes and textures while acquiring a natural feel for portion control. It’s a method some American mothers use as well, but here, it’s a trend considered worthy of fierce debate.

Before the workshop, the decision to go with purée for my daughter, Emma, had seemed like a no-brainer: Babies ate baby food. And who had ever heard of an infant gnawing on a drumstick anyway?

But when I stopped scoffing and started learning more about BLW, I couldn’t deny how logical it sounded. According to the baby-led set, spoon-feeding is a relic of outdated infant guidelines. Parents used to be told to introduce solids at four months, when babies weren’t physically capable of sitting up, grabbing objects and directing things to their mouths — all prerequisites for self-feeding. But since 2001, when the World Health Organization changed its recommendations, parents have been advised to hold off on solids until six months. At that age, advocates say, babies are developmentally ready to skip the mush. Yet the purée habit has persisted.

Maybe the real no-brainer was keeping my fancy baby-food maker on the shelf.

So, on Emma’s six-month birthday, we put control over her eating into her own hands. Literally. First up were baby-fist-size spears of carrot and bell pepper, and within a few weeks she was happily munching on apple slices baked with cinnamon, juicy peaches, cheddar, toast and watermelon. At seven months, she was stripping ripe pears down to the core like a hyena with a side of ribs — all without any teeth. The best part was, I could go hands-free at mealtimes, so I was able to enjoy my lunch and dinner while she worked on hers.

“Won’t she choke?” panicked friends and family have asked as I handed over a piece of cooked ham or slice of baguette. But according to British infant-feeding expert Gill Rapley — who coined the term “baby-led weaning” and co-authored the books “Baby-Led Weaning” and “The Baby-Led Weaning Cookbook” — there’s no evidence that babies over six months need a spoon-feeding stage to avoid choking. “They may occasionally gag a bit or cough and splutter, but that’s actually a baby’s way of triggering the anti-choking reflex, and it happens with purées too,” she explains. “The real risk comes if parents try to hurry baby-led weaning and put chunks of food in a baby’s mouth for him.”

Mess, on the other hand, is a fact of baby-led life. I’ve learned to relax about the couscous grains, scrambled eggs and avocado that end up all over the kitchen, but I’ve seen the looks of horror on friends’ faces as Emma drops sandwich parts and half-chewed green beans onto restaurant floors (I’ve since become an extra-generous tipper). My husband and I even developed a new lexicon to describe the sticky aftermath of a store-bought mango, kiwi and pineapple salad: “fruit fingers” and “juice hair.”

Cleanup aside, our adventure in self-feeding has been one of my favorite chapters in early parenthood. I’ve especially loved gathering around the dinner table together, and I’m proud of the curious, independent eater Emma (now a 1-year-old) has become. Recently, a friend from New York with adult children visited us in London, and she seemed surprised but impressed as Emma shoved fistfuls of steamed kale and roasted pumpkin into her mouth while we were out to lunch.

“I guess the table manners will come later,” she joked.

For now, we’re working on the fork.