When I was a kid I ate supersize Elastoplasts filled with Pedigree Chum and coated in an orange viscous sauce AKA tinned Ravioli. Other favourite meals included a bacon substitute called Breakfast Slice that would be nuked in the microwave until it turned into what looked like deep fried crispy shoe-horns. Dee-licious. My children however would probably call ‘I Can Cook’ Katy to stage an intervention if we tried to give them anything but Ravioli made by Tuscan artisans to an authentic 16th century recipe under the strictest bio-dynamic conditions. I blame foodie husband entirely for the following …
At her 2 year check up, nurse asks hitherto mute child what her favourite food is. Child clearly articulates the word Artichokes.
8 year old chid asks for scrambled eggs for breakfast. When handed her plate she says “Mummy, are you sure this is scrambled eggs? Where are the pink bits?” (pink bits = smoked salmon)
I overhear my children role-playing with their Sylvanians. “I’d like a nice big sourdough please Mr Bear.”
“Mummy, I can’t eat the baked beans at school they are so sweet and mushy.” *whispers* “I don’t think they’re organic.”
My four year old has named her favourite doll Calamari.
