My son and I have discovered a rollicking new game. We play it every mealtime and it’s a hoot! Want to learn more? Great! Here are the rules.
Your son must refuse to eat every meal put in front of him, whilst screaming and trying to hit you with his flailing arms.
He gets extra points for spitting out the food, arching his back so much he’s actually looking behind himself, and contorting his face to resemble a cabbage.
Your objective in the game is to persist in trying to feed him. Points are deducted for swearing, withering into the fetal position, or attempting to give him away to your neighbours.
In fact, one of my neighbours made the mistake of dropping in this morning during Round 1 of our merry little game.
It wasn’t the best timing. I had just said to my son in a tone verging on the hysterical, “FOOD GOES IN YOUR MOUTH, MR SQUISH. NOT. IN. YOUR. EARS!” when I heard her rapping on the back gate.
My first thought was, “Oh god, it’s the police! Someone heard my child having a tantrum and assumed I must be feeding him poison!” But then I heard the old Croation lady say hello and my thoughts swiftly moved onto another disturbing matter – my sorry appearance.
I should explain. Because I’m no longer required to go into the office every day, I have (how shall I put this?) relaxed my daily beauty routine. Christ, it’s so relaxed it’s almost comatose.
So my poor, elderly neighbour was confronted at the gate with a tense woman with crazy hair, no make-up, and pyjamas spotted with soggy Vita-Brits. This was from earlier when Mr Squish had finally taken a big mouthful, only to immediately sneeze.
Plus I had not bathed yet. Nor brushed my teeth.
[To any single men reading this – yes, I know, I know. It's a shame I'm happily married. What can I do?]
Anyway, it was an awkward greeting. But as I stood there trying to hide behind my son, I noticed she was still in her nightgown. She handed me fresh veggies from her garden, for which I was very grateful. It was an extremely kind gesture during a very trying morning. I felt like I’d been hugged.
When she left, Mr Squish and I launched into Round 2.
This time I think I won.
This is why coffee exists. Although it will be a few years before you enjoy a hot cup.
Showers and makeup are overrated and should be tucked into the “if I ever go out again with grown-ups” file.
warning: you’ll know you’ve plunged to new depths when you start eating the Vita-brits from the front of your pjs.
So, hang on, eating the Vita-Brits from my clothes is BAD?
And, yes, hot beverages. Mmm. Just talk amongst yourselves while I sit here and enjoy the memory of those…
My son (Little) really enjoys noodles of the instant variety, although his eating technique – picking up a handful and shoving them into his mouth – ensures that many end up on the table and floor. I admit to eating the ones from the table – it’s an easy disposal method. However, I watched both aghast and impressed yesterday as Little deliberately and quite skilfully stepped on a noodle with his bare foot, lifted it to his mouth (still with his foot), and ate it from the sole. I am sure this is all very good for his immune system. That’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.
I just tried to get my foot near my mouth, and almost got there but not quite. So I’m quite impressed with Little’s agility.
And I’m almost at the point where I wouldn’t care if the food had previously been on the floor – as long as Mr Squish bloody ate something!
i would instigate beer (for the mother trying to feed the child) at such meals. yep, cmon, throw food at me child, i don’t care because I am drinking a beer.
Yes, that’s why dinner time in my household is my clear favourite.
And I would probably have a beer in the morning too if DOCs didn’t frown upon that type of behaviour.
Faircall… blasted DOCs.
Lunch on Sundays though… reckon that’s fairgame.