The Ancient Art Of Secret Eating

Let me make something clear before I start. This is not an advisory post. If you don’t already do this, then it’s probably not the best idea to start. If you do, then rest assured that you are not alone.

Right, well that’s the disclaimers out of the way.

This isn’t a problem when you have a small baby. You can sit down right in front of them with a cake, and they don’t even know what they’re missing. But babies grow up, and then they’re standing in front of you with reaching hands, saying, “Der ya go!” That’s when the secret eating begins.

The problem is, you make something like this:

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And you know that you’re going to want to eat at least six times the amount you’re prepared to give the children. Because you want them to be all healthy and shit. I want me to be all healthy and shit as well, but most of all I want to eat cake.

Plus, I’m exhausted. The days are long when the nights are spent settling a baby back to sleep and ridding big kids of nightmares and twisted covers. A quick sugar boost does wonders for that ‘slump’ moment, when all you want to do is collapse into bed and tell responsibility to get to fuck.

Still, the issue isn’t so great while they’re small. There’s always nap time. And if you’ve got a safety gate on the kitchen door, you’ve got plenty of time to stash the goodies before they see you.

I'm sensing that I missed something.

I’m sensing that I missed something.

Phew!

After a while, you have to be even craftier. Big kids have an inbuilt sensor to detect the moment you open the cupboard.

And worst of all, they can open the gate.

A head pops round the doorway with big, inquiring eyes and a salivating mouth. “What you eating?”

“Nothing!” I reply. I have acquired great skill in hiding something behind my back without it looking like I’m hiding something behind my back. Or dropping it. I’m unreasonably proud of this.

I can tell that they’re never convinced. They glare at me suspiciously and with such intensity that I’m almost certain they are activating the X-ray function in their eyeballs.

What do you mean, that’s not real? Show me the research!

Reasearch shows that X-ray vision is, in fact, imaginary.

Research shows that X-ray vision is, in fact, imaginary.

So you say only Superman has X-ray vision? OK, I’ll take your word for it. But I’m still not so sure.

Eventually, they work out that even if I am concealing something, I’m not about to tell them what it is. They retreat back into the living room, throwing one last searching look at me as they go. Once I’m sure they’re gone, I retrieve my bounty (not Bounty. Coconut <shudders>), and shovel it down me as fast as I can.

Because I’m not dumb enough to think I can get away with it a second time.

The other reason I secret eat is just simple maths. Let me tell you about it in the style of a school maths problem (sort of):

Q: Char has 1 piece of cake. She also has 3 ravenous hell-beasts (aka children) licking their lips around her. If she shares the cake with said hell-beasts, how much will she get?

A: Not e-freaking-nough!

You see, if the kids realised that I was snacking in secret, I’d have approximately 2.6 seconds before they were gathered around me, clamouring for a bit.

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Or begging like puppies, if you will.

What looks like an impressive slice will look, at best, a bit pathetic once they’ve had a go at it. Now, I will give anything to my kids. I will give them an essential body organ if they really need it. My time, my love, my pillow space. Even the clothes off my back, if it comes to it. But for God’s sake, not the cake as well.

I spend most of my life trying to instil into the children the values which I want them to have as they grow up. Determination, kindness, generosity…

But still, I don’t want to share!

Here’s a few pointers, to help you to achieve an optimal secret eating technique:

1. If it’s got a plastic wrapper, forget about it! Even a six month old can detect one of these opening from a hundred feet away.

2. Remember to pause the washing machine. You need to be able to listen out for people sneaking up on you.

3. Check your mouth for crumbs before you go back in. This is a crucial one. Forgetting this will be your downfall!

Follow these simple rules and the holy grail of uninterrupted cake-eating will be yours.

This is what failure looks like.

This is what failure looks like.

N. B. If you don’t like cake then firstly, what the hell is wrong with you? Secondly, sorry about that. Thirdly, cake isn’t essential for this. Just insert your favourite snack and off you go!

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There Are Some Things In Life Which Are Guaranteed

Any mother or father will tell you that parenting is unpredictable. Routines change from one day to the next, likes and dislikes are as fleeting as a British summer. And the cup is always the wrong colour.

But, comfortingly, I have found just a few things that always stay the same. They may not all be good, but at least I’m not surprised.

Here’s a few of my parenting guarantees. Remind yourself of these when you throw your hands up in despair because your kid just put a whole toilet roll down the toilet. And flushed.

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I’m not saying that it’ll help, but at the very least it’ll be a distraction.

1. Wipes packets

Oh god, here she goes with the bloody wipes again! OK, I may have mentioned them before. But you see, they are irritating in so many ways. It’s a multi-faceted annoyance.

In my opinion, the people who manufacture baby wipes and their receptacles are not parents. Either that, or they really dislike parents. Intensely. Am I the only person who think their design makes no freaking sense? It’s not even just that they are incredibly easy for a baby to open. I mean, if it bugged me that much, I could just try and remember to put them up out of reach.

No, my greatest beef with wipes packets is that they don’t even work how they are supposed to. And I resent that. The average baby needs at least 6 nappy changes a day. I do not need to be filled with rage 6 times a day. That does not enrich my life.

Why are they so annoying? Oh yeah, totally forgot to mention that.

So, you need to change your baby’s nappy. You get out the wipes, nappy, spare clothes, whatever. If you have a non-moving child, then yay! You win because she’s right there. If you have a mobile child, you call her over in an intriguingly excited voice. Then you call her again, perhaps through slightly gritted teeth. After that, you give up and chase her across the room.

Here is where the guarantee comes in. First scenario: your baby has done the most stench-filled, explosive, revolting poo you have ever experienced, the kind that has you wincing and mouth-breathing (by the way, don’t try the mouth-breathing thing, unless you prefer tasting shit to smelling it). You reach for the wipes. I can guarantee that you will not be able to get a single one out. Not one. They will be sealed shut as well as a roll of sticky tape. You can scrabble with your nails, pinch furiously or swear under your breath. It ain’t coming out. And you can’t let go of the baby, or you’ll be cleaning more than just her bottom.

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Grrrr.

Conversely, I can also guarantee that if you only need a single wipe, one tug will bring a veritable conga line of wipes. Which won’t detach from each other even if you shake the packet round above your head. Not even if you say, “Arrrggggghhhh!”

Seriously, new design required, wipes manufacturers!

Learning Through Repetition

It’s pretty well known that children learn best through repetition. That’s why they enjoy nursery rhymes so much, and why they spend ages pressing the same, tuneless button on a toy piano.

It’s also the reason I read the Gruffalo book to a 2 year old Big Girl every night for 6. goddamn. months. Go on, ask me the words. I know ’em all.

The side effect of learning positive things by doing them again and again, is that they have to learn not to do things the same way.

You would think that pain would be quite a compelling motivator for kids to stop doing stupid shit. It isn’t. Apparently, kids don’t have much of a life-preserving instinct.DSC_0031_02

In fact, they seem to do stuff even more if there’s a painful end. It makes no sense.

Squeak is my evidence for this one. She has developed an intense fascination with our budgie, Roland (of Gilead). However many times I take her away from his cage I still find her, eyes a-goggling, staring in as she says, “Biiiir-day.”

She’s stepped it up recently though. She wants to touch him. Now, little podgy baby fingers are sneakily thrust through the bars the moment she senses I’m not watching. He’s given her fair warning. He screeches and snaps at her, but she appears unperturbed.

Today, he stepped it up too. She pushed her fingers into the cage. He gave her one warning, and then…

He bit her.

It wasn’t hard, just a gentle nip really. She was shocked but it didn’t hurt. I would like to think that she will learn from this.

Still, I am sure that within the next hour, she will be back there attempting to pet the birdie. I guarantee it.

(Note to self: Move the bird.)

Inconsiderate Wake-Ups

I have only touched upon sleep issues a little bit before. Like, a smidgeon. So it may come as a surprise to you to discover that Squeak wakes up a lot. I don’t know what happens after I go to bed because I’m too scared to look at a clock, but I do know that she’s usually up about 3 times in the evening.

I can’t say this, on its own, particularly irks me. I am a big supporter of the belief that children sleep when they are ready. So I’m fully prepared and accepting of the fact that Squeak needs me to help her back to sleep.

What pisses me off is her timing.

Occasionally, when we’re not glued to separate computers typing and photo-processing, Mark suggests we watch a film. And after I have established that he does not mean a pants-wettingly scary horror film (his favourite), I usually agree. I mean, it’s nice to spend a bit of time together, isn’t it? I think so.

So does Squeak.

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As we sit down, I hear the first snuffles, shuffles and squeaks. Oh yes, she is awake. At the very moment we hit play. It’s still salvageable, though. I run upstairs to settle her down again.

After 15-20 minutes, I realise that it may not be salvageable.

After half an hour, I realise that it definitely isn’t.

Squeak goes back to sleep, and I go back downstairs. I check the clock, and see that it is now far too late to start watching anything. Typical.

Every time!

Choices

Everyone knows that it’s pretty risky, giving children choices. If you ask them to choose between raisins and grapes for a snack, they will ask for a banana. Or something obscure that you last bought 3 months ago.

This only gets worse with multiple children. If I make the mistake of asking Big Girl and Little Girl to choose between two films to watch, Big Girl does a most irritating thing. She waits until Little Girl has chosen, and then says the opposite.

Hmmm.

Obviously, chaos ensues as I try to get them to compromise. It’s predictable, and super annoying.

I would like to say that this is one of the reasons I decided to spawn another small human. With three, there’ll always be a decisive majority. Win.

Although I admit, I didn’t exactly take this into account.

It also wouldn’t work when my step-daughter is here.

But otherwise, a stroke of genius!

The Happy Ending

I would hate you to think that it’s all bad in my house. It’s actually mostly really good, if a bit crazy. So I decided to finish on a positive.

I can guarantee that, when I’m at my most frazzled, when the world feels like it is against me, one simple thing will happen.

As I am standing, head in hands, sighing in desperation, Big Girl will come up behind me and say:

“I love you.”

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Beautiful.

5 Things My Children Do To Keep Me In My Place

Sometimes I like to go a bit wild, and get ideas above my station. You know, like the idea that I am the most important person in my children’s lives. Or that I’m making their world a better place. Or that I can cook.

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It doesn’t last long, though. Oh no, this is a strictly time-limited situation. You see, within about 3.2 seconds, the children can put me straight back into my place. With less than 5 words.

Here’s how.

1. I Want Daddy

I’m sure this one will not be an unfamiliar scenario for most of you. I find this comforting. Because if I didn’t know that most kids do this, I’d be pretty sad right now.

This is Little Girl’s favourite at the moment. She’s going through one of those clumsy phases. She’s had a growth spurt, her legs have got longer, and she has all the grace of a recently birthed foal.

So she stubs her toe, or trips on the rug. Or the worst, she stands on a Smurf. That’s gotta sting.

She collapses on the floor sobbing. And Little Girl doesn’t hold back on tears. I’m talking full blast, sodden face, drippy nose tears. The kind that you recoil from slightly because you can feel your eardrums vibrating.

I do what any parent would do. I make sympathetic noises. I open my arms wide and offer her a soothing cuddle.

She accepts and clambers, snivelling, onto my lap. I fold my arms around her, kiss her forehead and rock her gently. Then, obviously, I kiss it better.

She carries on crying. I’m telling you, Little Girl’s got some stamina.

I rock some more, and stroke her hair. Surely this will fix it. I am her mother. For over 3 years I have held her and soothed away her pain. This will work.

Suddenly, she sits up. She pushes her hair out of her eyes, wipes her nose on her sleeve (ick) and looks up at me. I smile and kiss her. All better!

Then, she utters three words.

“I want Daddy!”

And on she sobs.

Thanks, Little Girl.

2. The Kiss-Slap

Don’t you think it’s cool when babies learn to kiss for the first time? I mean, it’s disgusting as well. There’s nothing quite like the sensation of a warm, open mouth smeared DSC_0700with drool planting itself on your cheek. Still, awwwww.

Squeak has just mastered this. She started out by blowing kisses at bedtime, which was freaking adorable. But now she’s doing her best to kiss everyone. Of course, she often misses and you have to dodge the rock-hard forehead flying towards your teeth. But come on, she’s a baby. Let’s not judge.

It’s beautiful. She is learning how to outwardly express her love. Every time she does it I feel my heart melt a bit, and I can’t help but smile.

Apparently, that is not cool with Squeak.

She has come up with a solution, though. And it’s a great one. It’s efficient, simple and it really gets the message across.

She leans in for the kiss. Then, before I’ve even had time to break the spit-string that joins us together, she lifts her hand and slaps me right across the face.

Hard.

Good feeling is gone, Squeak. Good feeling is gone.

3. Rejection

You know that moment when you have the best idea ever? Your brain is hit by a flash of inspiration and you are excited.

I get this a lot. Especially relating to things to do with the kids. Maybe it’s too much time on Pinterest, or maybe I really am a complete genius. I’ll leave it up to you to decide.

Frequently it’s crafty stuff. Something like this or this. Soooo awesome. Could you resist?

I can’t! So I gather up equipment and children. I tell Big Girl all about the activity we are about to do. I show her pictures on the computer of what will happen. She makes all the right noises, “Oohs” and “Aahs” and suchlike.

This face is optional.

This face is optional.

I am definitely awesome right now.

We sit down at the table, ready to create. And Big Girl turns to me and says:

“Can’t I just play out?”

Yes, of course standing around in the street is as exciting as making your own lava lamp.

Brilliant.

4. Simple Honesty

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I try to cook pretty good meals for the kids, on the whole. And apart from my insistence on throwing mushrooms in almost everything (sorry, Little Girl), it’s stuff I know they like.

So knowing this, when I sit them down at the table I’m usually sure they will eat what they’re given. At a push, maybe they’ll even enjoy it.

But for some reason, I always make the same mistake.

I ask them what it is like.

Now, you may be scoffing right now. I would be, if I was someone other than me. If they like the food and they’re eating it, obviously the answer would be positive. Wouldn’t it?

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If you think this, then you really haven’t been reading my other stuff.

Come on, you know kids are out to screw us over. You do, right? I must have said it at least 87 times.

At least.

This is how the exchange plays out in my kitchen:

We sitting down, eating our meals. The kids are tucking in with at least a little enthusiasm. All is good. I take a pause from my meal, put down my fork and smile.

And I say, “How’s your dinner, guys?”

Big Girl jumps in straight away with a loud, “Amazing!” This makes me happy. I love to see them enjoying their food.

Without fail, Little Girl then interjects with a simple, “Yucky.”

Nice.

5. Silence, Mother

I love to sing. I spend a lot of the time I am in the house playing music and singing along. The time I’m not spending creeping around a sleeping baby, anyway.

I tend to only do it in secret at home. It’s just how I roll. I’m not that bad though, if I do say so myself.

As an aside, I do a pretty good Heather Small impression as well. I know that looks like it would be improbable, to say the least. But it’s true.

Irrelevant, but true.

So it’s accurate to say that the children are subjected to my tuneful tones fairly frequently. And Little Girl has shown great skill in picking up song lyrics. (As evidenced when she got undressed yesterday and sang, “I’m naked and I’m far from home!” That’s contextual singing, that is.)

If I’m lucky, they like it. But more often, this is how it pans out:

Here’s me, doing whatever needs doing with a song. Just call me a regular old, slightly messed-up Mary Poppins. Little Girl is playing a confusing game involving My Little Ponies and a pizza cutter.

Suddenly, I hear, “Sshhhhh!”

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I turn around, and a frowning Little Girl says to me, “You hurtin’ my ears, Mum.”

Well.

That’s me brought down to earth with a bump, then.

A Child’s Guide To Sharing

Sharing is an odd thing. It’s a complete social construct, which we spend an excessive amount of our children’s formative years trying to teach them. “You have to share, darling!” we trill as they engage in a death battle over some Lego. And they completely ignore us.

In my opinion, it’s not so much that it’s hard to learn to share. It’s more that children have their own ideas on what sharing is all about.

Their motto is, ‘What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine.’

And they don’t give a crap if you don’t like it.

Sharing Food

The kids have got it pretty good here. I make meals that they like most of the time. Apart from the occasional junk, they get healthy, balanced food. It doesn’t taste that bad either. So if this is the case, why does each mealtime follow the same routine?
We sit down to eat. Everybody has the same food. I am starving, and looking forward to tucking in.

So far, all good.

Suddenly, I see a movement out of the corner of my eye. There is a Little Girl hand, silently sliding across the table towards my plate.

I look up. There on her face is an innocent-looking, winning smile.

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“What are you doing?”

“Can I have a piece of your chicken?” The grin widens.

“No honey,” I reply, ” You have some chicken on your own plate.”

“Pleeeeaaaaaase?”

“No.”

“Waaaaail!”

Obviously, food stolen from a parent’s plate tastes a lot better than the identical stuff on your own. Especially if said parent really, really wants to eat it.

Added to that, I have Squeak bent double over the highchair, reaching and stretching as far as she can, saying, “Eh! Eh! Eh!” When you also consider Big Girl making puppy dog eyes at any opportunity, you must realise that mealtimes are not exactly a relaxing experience.

And don’t even get me started on the drama caused by me eating cake, at the same time as them.

Sharing Your Personal Space, a.k.a. The Couch Creep

Kids like to be close to you. Like, close. And that’s ok some of the time. Everyone loves a cuddle, right?

But once it gets to the point where your molecules start to meld, it’s gone too far.

I’m sitting on the couch. For once, the kids are feeling chilled. They’re reading, watching TV, or playing a bizarrely elaborate game involving Papa Smurf and Cinderella. Or, you know, whatever. The point is, they’re sitting down too.

With no demands on my time, I’m grabbing a minute to, well, do what I’m doing right now. The blog doesn’t write itself, you know!

I can feel a small body shuffling across the couch. Ah, I think. How sweet! I’m totally getting a cuddle.DSC_0355

The child advances until she is tucked up against me. It’s a lovely feeling, which lasts approximately 3 seconds.

Because she keeps on coming. And on. And on.

I find myself wedged in a space about half the size I need. A toddler couldn’t fit in there. There’s an elbow digging into some vital organ, and breathing is slightly more difficult than it was before. It’s not comfortable.

I’m not sure of the purpose of it. Surely touching is close enough?

I guess not.

Sharing Your Bed

As babies, the girls have always slept with me. Big Girl flirted with the idea of a cot for a few months, but other than that they have been at their most contented snuggled up next to me.

Big Girl sleeps in her own bed all the time now, unless she has a nightmare. And she’s actually quite nice to share a bed with. She wraps an arm around you and stays still and peaceful for the rest of the night.

Little Girl takes a slightly more unconventional approach to cosleeping. Her preference is to place one hand on each side of your face and sleep nose-to-nose with you, periodically shifting to kick you in the thigh.

Squeak still sleeps with us. She’s not that bad overall. When she wakes up, a simple feed is usually enough to settle her.

It’s the time before we come up that’s the problem.

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I settle her down at 8ish, and then spend a couple of hours downstairs. Apart from the numerous re-settlings, of course.

And it doesn’t matter where she is on the bed when I leave. I can guarantee that when I come up to bed, there is only one place she will be.

In my pillow space.

Horizontally.

If I’m having a particularly lucky day, she will end up on Mark’s side instead.

So I end up perched on the end of my own bed, shoulders sagging, eyes drooping, waiting for Squeak to stir so I can slide in quietly next to her.

That is not sharing.

Sharing With Siblings

Sorry, what?

No.

Things Babies Eat

There are two things that cause first time parents the most anxiety. Eating and sleeping. I know, I’ve been there. Is my kid eating enough? Why does that kid sleep so much better than mine? It’s stressful. The benefit of spawning more clones is that you begin to realise that you have absolutely no control over any of it. The baby has the power!

Today I’m talking about the eating side of things. Babies like eating. But it’s not always the things that you want them to eat. I have compiled a list of my children’s favourite foods as babies. If you’re expecting to see banana, yoghurt and blueberries, expect a surprise!

1. Milk

I’m going to start positively, with something which is actually edible. Milk. No matter what the source, babies love the milk. And research has shown that milk  is tastiest and highest in nutrients between the hours of 12am and 5am.* In that case, aren’t babies clever to sense this, and seek it out intensely between those hours? Honestly, pure genius.

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*not 100% true.

2. Stones, leaves and other organic matter

Organic is good. Organic matter, not so good. But babies love it.

You tend to see this most often when a baby has started walking, and takes those first few forays into the park or the beach. (Although if you have older children, it’s from the moment your baby can haul its under-developed muscles across the room.)

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There they will find a plethora of mouthing opportunities. One of Little Girl’s favourites was stones. You couldn’t take your eye off her for a second, or she’d be crouched in that weird, bum-skimming-the-floor way that toddlers do, cramming them in by the handful. I don’t know what she found so compelling about them, be it the taste (ewwwwww) or the texture, but she carried on doing it long after she should have grown out of it.

Squeak loves autumn leaves. The girls have been collecting and discarding them around the house for weeks, and she’s never happier than when she’s got a mouthful of bitty, disintegrating leaves.

Sand is another, and it is the one that baffles me the most. We all had a mouthful of sand on a windy day at the beach. It is gritty and, quite frankly, revolting. But I had to stop taking Little Girl to the beach for a while because of this routine: eat, grimace, gag, cry, rinse and repeat.

I comfort myself with the fact that they are giving their immune systems a massive kickstart. Maybe.

3. Wipes

I don’t know what they put in baby wipes to make them so addictive to babies . I suspect crack. Whatever it is, look me in the eye and tell me you never saw your baby’s eyes light up when they saw a packet of wipes. Yeah, *that* was convincing!

Squeak is pretty good at playing on her own. For short periods, anyway. And I like to grab those times to do nothing at all. Or write this. Now, over the years I have developed a heightened sense of hearing. Whatever I am doing, I always have one ear open, ready to activate the ‘someone is fucking with something’ radar.

So Squeak is sitting on the floor, playing with some toys. She’s babbling to herself and banging things together. I think, Wahey! And settle down to do something inane and time-wasting. Next minute, I sense something. Silence. The thing which every parent claims to desire, but knows should actually be dreaded. Then, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. I look up. Squeak has abandoned her toys, and is ripping the wipes out of the packet at a rate of knots. I drag myself up off the couch to rush over and stop her. She stops, and makes eye contact. She can see I’m on my way. Her bounty is about to be confiscated. So she does the only thing she can think of. She jams it into her mouth and starts sucking the life out of it.

The inevitable happens. The seizure of the ill-gotten goods. The outraged howls. And, as ever, my complete confusion. I mean, surely they taste like crap?

4. Small toys

It doesn’t matter how many times you say to your older children, “Please keep the small toys out of reach of the baby,” they always forget.

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Do you ever wonder why babies follow their older siblings around? Some people say it is because they look up to them.

They are wrong.

Babies are not so much looking up as looking down, and waiting for the drop. The smaller the better. Swallowing size is good, but even if it is too big to swallow there is something very satisfying about rolling a tiny toy around your mouth. I assume there is, anyway, because Squeak never bloody stops doing it!

I have perfected the hooked finger method, much to her rage. In fact, she is now primed to run away as fast as she can (which is, thankfully, still pretty slow) as soon as she sees my hand approaching.

I always win, though. Choking = baaaad.

5.Fluff and crumbs

It isn’t until a baby acquires the pincer grip that you realise how shoddy your vacuuming technique actually is.

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You’re sitting there, beaming with pride at how good they are at rolling, commando crawling or whatever. And then you see their forefinger and thumb come together to grasp something on the floor.

Your first reaction is, wow, that’s so clever! Then, ugh, what is that?? And it doesn’t matter if you are sitting so close to them that you are touching them, you will still not manage to stop them before they shove it straight into their mouths.

Favourites are: hair, dustballs and small pieces of plastic wrapper. A special treat is biscuit crumbs, the Holy Grail of all floor-related matter.

Sure, I could vacuum more, but where’s the fun in that?

6. Crayons

Anyone with a child older than about 18 months has crayons in their house. Fact. And another fact is that they are never where they are supposed to be.

Ours live on the multi-purpose storage area that is commonly known as the floor. If by some chance they do make it into their intended box, Squeak soon comes along and tips the lot onto the floor. And as we have already established, babies love to eat off the floor.

I don’t know quite how she does it. In my opinion, crayons are pretty hard. But all I know is, I have a boxful of crayons with the ends bitten off, and a baby with blue drool. ‘Nuff said.

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7. Your food

It doesn’t matter what you’re eating. It’s irrelevant if they have the exact same thing on their plate. All that matters is that you like it. And the more you like it, the more they will strain across the highchair, squawking at you, desperate for a bite.

Man, this pisses me off. There’s nothing that spoils a nice meal more than a whining monster trying to steal it off you.

Does anyone remember the film K-9? There’s a scene in it where Dooley gets in the car with a cake that he’s bought for himself. He takes a bite, and the dog starts yowling and nudging him so much that in the end he’s all, “Take it! Take it!” and shoving the cake in the dog’s mouth.

This is my life.

Sigh.

Oh! Before I go, just one last thing.

Things babies don’t eat:

1. Their food

So you’ve prepared a healthy, delicious meal. It’s got all the food groups, it’s attractive, you’ve tasted it and it is good. You put it in front of your baby.DSC_5935

They eye it with suspicion. They poke it. If you’re extremely lucky, they may even take a small bite.

Then, they sweep the lot onto the floor. And they lock eyes with you. And smile.

Babies are evil.