I can do it myself mama.

You saw the other day how mama holds up fud with sticks and I take it from the sticks.  I don’t know why she uses the sticks, my fingies are very good at picking up fud, she should try that.  Sometimes to keep the old pair happy I have a go with the things like they use, like the spoonses, but I like to use my fingies too.  I had a go of mama’s sticks when we were finished eating and I had fun waving them in the air like Dada does when he plays AC/DC.


My body is a temple.

Foodie cleansing was needed after our lunch in McDonalds (okay, so Dominic was just on the premises), so the bags were unpacked and the veg & tofu pulled out for dinner.  Quick marinade on some tofu slices, stirfried some yellow pepper, leek & beansprouts and our bodies were our temples again.  I only cooked half the tofu, because it was just me & Dom for dinner.  Um, I was left a bit short, he ate all his then went whinging towards my bowl.  What I didn’t capture on video was his go of chopsticks – there was some decent airdrumming, followed by a very good 2-handed food stabbing effort.  Am off to buy some baby chopsticks.


An establishment of ill repute…

Go on, guess where I am?

Today we drove to Belfast to procure our best little buddy’s new car seat.  As is by now tradition, every trip to the North involves a supermarket shop.  Usually, it’s straight to Sainsburys but without the currency and petrol price advantages of a couple of years ago we needed to try make some actual savings rather than buy every fancy snack goingm so we popped into an Asda instead.    A rather large 24 hour version, perfect for our needs, and in a small shopping centre.  Ah there’ll be a Costa, or some class of cafe in the supermarket just like Sainsbury’s there I thought confidently.

There was no cafe.  There was a grim eatery with old looking hot dogs in the run down shopping centre.  And there was a (sshhhhh) McDonalds.  Bless me Krishna for I have sinned, we plumped for the latter.  I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve been inside one (though I do have an annual bean burger in Burger King).

Thanks be to JAYSUS I popped some soup & crackers into a bag ‘just in case’ for Dom this morning.   So he sat up resplendent in what must be said was a very nice highchair and ate every drop of his soup.  Phew!  I had the ‘spicy veggie deli sandwich’ which on any other menu might be appetising but this was a manky fried thing.

Me & husbag had big grumpy heads on us most of the way home, and I really reckon it was a combo of tiredness and bleugh food.  The boy slept soundly and soup filled in his new car seat.

A piece of pear or plum is YUM!

Uh-oh. It’s Teething City round here, and I ain’t the mayor.  Dominic got his first 6 teeth quite early – before 7 months.  I never thought this teething lark was any big deal.  Until this week.  There’s fist chewing, rigid arched back, screaming, and of course food refusal.  The 7th tooth has popped up on the bottom but the nightly wake ups continue and I think I see a couple more about to come through on the top.  To add insult to injury, 10 days ago we went cold tofurkey with the soothers.  It wasn’t hugely difficult, and I’ve been a little torn as to whether he would have got some benefit from them during this tooth-growing binge.  Honestly I think it would have been a temporary relief at best, so I’m happy for them to remain gone now, long before we have to persuade Santa/Easter Bunny to take them from a willful 2 year old down the line.

I’m putting up this picture to remind myself and others out there faced with upturned noses and dishes that sometimes mealtimes are just good fun.  We were sharing a plum, and I said isn’t plum yum?  Then began a chant of A Piece, of Pear, or Plum is YUM! spitting out my P’s and shouting out YUM.  Hilarity ensued & fruit was eaten.

Then last night he point blank refused food.  He waves his hands, he shakes his head firmly, he empties the dish and swipes the food to the floor.  A tad dramatic considering I’m not going to try and force feed him anyway.  I was going to get something else, but M pointed out he’d probably just play with it and he didn’t seem interested in anything off our plates either.  An hour later off he went to bed with a 250ml bottle.  It’s just so much easier when you don’t stress about missed meals, and just remember the fun ones.


tofu nyom nyom

Mama and dada used to cook the same things as each other for years but now mama says that dada’s never cooked so much meat before.  That’s when me and dada eat one dinner and mama eats a different dinner.  I offer her bits of mine I always am nice like that but she says no.  Now we have special mama dinners all of us together a lot too so she cooks us tofu sometimes then which is a funny word.

She said this was the marinade she used. It was super yum, we all liked it. I like veggies too and then there was another thing in my dinner which must have been a toy because it was so much fun to play with.


noodley fun


Something smells a bit fishy.

Barry was no ordinary fish

There’s no denying the goodness of fish.  Personally, I like them to keep their goodness all to themselves but I hear if you consume such things they’re chocka full of omega 3’s and what not, especially the oily fish kind.  Pity their greasiness doesn’t allow them slip away from nets…

Dominic’s favourite fish is Barry The Fish With Fingers.  But his Dad thinks it’s okay to eat other, less talented fish, and thusly consulted his new bible, the Baby Led Weaning cookbook.   Tuna croquettes were on the menu.  His top tip for speed is chop up the spuds & steam them in the microwave.  These were very quick to make, and after Mark sliced them into discs Dom nommed them up that way.  I think I spent more time cleaning potato & flaky tuna off the floor than he spent making them.  Then I gave the other tin of tuna to the cats, the bang* off it is woeful.

Then last sunday, while I revelled in delight at finding Cauldron tofu in Tesco (really firm, definitely the easiest to cook with, but not always available), Mark was slipping peppered mackerel fillets in the basket.   They ate them up on the next night with steamed babycorn & mangetout.  The packet said may contain traces of bone, but after a thorough combing through turns out they were actually bone-free.  Again, he ate small flaky bits with his hands.  The way he eats baby corn is really cute, its like an adult eating corn on the cob.  The tiny bits come back out with the sides nibbled off.

In case you’ve wondered, I don’t handle the meat/fish side of things at all, cooking or health & safety like bone removal.  I stand there making myself a little meal for one while father and son tuck in.  I don’t even like cleaning up after it, but then, when have I ever said I enjoy cleaning?

– jill

*bang is an irishism for smell, dear alien-readers.