Getting decent food into the big one seems to be a constant struggle.
At home though, this sucker for punishment just keeps trying. The refusal to eat whatever is put in front of her is a fairly new but very annoying phase and, as much as I’m sure it is pretty normal for toddlers, it’s driving me demented.
I think it would piss me off less if she was at least consistent. I’ve just spent half an hour knocking up a very decent salmon and courgette risotto. Fancy right? Delicious, I’d say. Last week she thought so, too. She ate the lot. Today it’s as if I am trying to feed her sewage.
We’ve had twenty minutes of her whinging about wanting ice cream instead (I’d probably have cracked and given her some if it didn’t involve a trip to the shop) and now I’m hiding out in the kitchen making toast. Or trying to; the bread is starting to go mouldy. This really isn’t the day for a tea time tantrum.
The little one has definite ideas of what he does and doesn’t like, but fortunately not the words yet to express how disgusting he finds my cooking. Small mercies.