Milk

I got a job today!  After a long time trying, going on interviews and not getting anywhere, I got a job today.  Which has made me pretty cheerful, as you can imagine.  As such tonight will be mostly celebratory in our house and so the blog has taken a back seat I’m afraid. 

However, because I can’t leave you with nothing, and as I know that you all hang on my every word, here is a little story about milk.  Milk is currently in the news, farmers don’t think they are being paid enough for it, and supermarkets think that they are, that seems to be the general gist.  And having seen that incisive commentary on the situation, I imagine Jon Humphreys has already begun to plan his retirement as I step into his shoes. 

Anyway, milk.  We like milk in our house, N is a particular fan.  Milk is what she asks for for breakfast, lunch and tea.  Recently we have added a new milk element into the bedtime routine as well, which seems to have gone down like a treat. 

Unfortunately, N does not have quite the cubic capacity in her mouth as she would like.  She loves to fill her mouth with milk and then slowly gulp it down.  Every now and then however she bites off (sucks in?) rather more than she can chew (swallow? I’m sorry this little picture has got a little out of hand).  This results in fountains of milk pouring out of her mouth as she struggles to contain all the milk that she would like in her mouth.  It’s like she saw a documentary on geysers in Yellowstone National Park and thought, ‘now there’s a career move I should give serious consideration to.’  (Although of course she would never leave her conjunctions at the ends of her sentences.)

She’s not quite as regular as Old Faithful, but can be just as impressive when she gets up to peak flow rate.  Now I wouldn’t mind too much.  It’s clear she doesn’t do it on purpose by the forlorn look on her face when she realises that all that good milk has just disappeared, never to be consumed by her.  The only problem is, the majority of the time while she is drinking the milk, she is sat on my lap.  Thus I become some sort of milk target.  My t-shirts, shorts, trousers, shirts, all have succumbed to a blast of milk from the little girl.  I have now taken to trying a technique whereby I return the glass to her mouth almost before I’ve taken it away.  That way milk embarrassments are avoided, and everyone is happy.

I hope the farmers get paid enough to keep on producing milk, I’m not sure what I would tell N if we suddenly had a milk shortage.