I am beginning to dread mealtimes with Will….breakfast I can just about cope with because it only requires a single course (porridge) and it’s over, but lunch and supper are a different story.
For starters we have to argue over who gets to hold the spoon – if I do it, I know the meal will be over quickly, but I have to cope with a bellyaching Will, desperate to do it himself. However the flip side is that William hasn’t mastered the art of manoeuvering the food from the spoon to his mouth, with the result that it ends up either down his bib, on the chair or in front of him (in which case he must then put both hands into the mush and swirl it around until it’s gone everywhere).
God Help Me if I dare remove a rusk before he’s finished, the shrieks are deafening, but unfortunately my ‘choking neurosis’ is so advanced I’m unable to cope with watching him eat the last tiny bit for fear it’ll get stuck. Rusks therefore, are a serious sticking point.
The final straw came yesterday, when William managed not only to get food everywhere, but then proceeded to poo copiously down his trousers and out onto the chair, much to the delight of the flies currently swarming around our kitchen in the continuing hot weather.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In the end I think it was a bit of both.
William's First Year 