Tuesday, 6 May 2014

Glorious Food

Right, so how does this thing work?  I think Daddy just pushes these little things and then stuff happens and Mummy laughs, although I’m not really sure she’s meant to because then she generally says,

“Ooppss, shouldn’t laugh, but why does your daddy never finish a sentence, what are all these commas doing?”

I don’t really know what Mummy means, I think a comma is the little dinosaur claw looking thing at the bottom there but I’m not really sure what it does (much like Daddy, is what I think Mummy would say).  It looks good though so I’m going to use it too.

I’m not really here to talk about commas though, what I want to talk to you about is something I’ve discovered that I think needs to be shared with everyone.  You see all my life I have been fobbed off with milk.  Now don’t get me wrong, I love milk.  A lot.  I will make all sorts of fuss for milk.  I have been known to cry very loudly if I think that I might not be getting my allotted feeds.  And I do keep a record of that.  I have tried negotiating for a feed on the hour every hour but Mummy and Daddy don’t seem to think that’s appropriate, something about “not really needing it”, and “must be full”.  They’ll come round one of these days. 

At least the feeding was regular, and calming, and always milky.  But then things began to change.  I turned 6 months a week ago which apparently means I am now a man and can do manly things.  It must be some sort of rite of passage because suddenly my whole world has changed.  Mummy and Daddy went out and bought a big chair a while ago.  Although to say that Daddy bought it is a bit of an over-estimation, he just seemed to stand and chuckle at something while N, my big sister, rampaged around on some sort of trolley.  He may have mentioned it already?

I didn’t know why they would want a white plastic chair with some form of wipeable surface for someone to sit in.  They all seem fairly capable of eating without splattering stuff all over their chairs.  Clearly it was just another in a long line of foolish purchases, but they won’t listen to me, they just babble the same noises back at me like it’s clever.  So frustrating.  But then, we got home, the chair was assembled with masterful competence by Daddy (I think he’d like me to say that) and I found myself sitting like a king in his throne 3 feet from the ground.  This was more like it, sitting in my appropriate place.  Then everyone proceeded to eat something that wasn’t milk.  I had known, of course, before, that they would sit around the big table and eat, but I was always so far down that I couldn’t tell what it was, so I presumed it was just milk.  But this wasn’t milk, it looked hard, and pink, and orange and green and other colours I don’t think food really should be.  But they were all sitting and eating it whilst I had to sit in my white throne and watch.  I did not like that, so I told them.  And for once they listened.  Because one day soon after I was put in my chair, pulled up to the table and presented with something that wasn’t milk but it seemed that Mummy and Daddy wanted me to eat it.  What else was I to do?  I let them put the spoon thing in my mouth and sucked. 

It was amazing.  Maybe not at first, it wasn’t milk, or very wet, and it tasted a bit funny, but it wasn’t long before I realised it was actually tasty.  And it kept coming.  Day after day more stuff is put in front of me, sometimes the same, sometimes not very nice (please tell me people don’t eat the curvy long yellow fruit thing in real life, yuck) but sometimes, sometimes I get something that is incredible.  Like the other day when we went out and Mummy gave me something she called pearbrocollipeas.  I don’t know what sort of thing pearbrocollipeas is but I think I could eat that all day every day.  Mummy began to get a bit worried I think when I had munched my way through almost an entire carton, but she got the message when I growled at her when it looked like she was going to stop. 

So, when you get fed up of milk, don’t worry, because just around the corner is a massive white chair and a little blue spoon, and as much food as you can eat.  Nom nom nom.

1 comment:

  1. My little boy is 2...he keeps asking to go to work with Daddy and has been told when he's a big boy he can. So when he was congratulated for sitting on the potty the other day (just sitting, it's been a battle to get that far!) he was told "well done, what a big boy!" He immediately jumped up and shouted, "Can I go to work now?!"