After a dalliance with half a rusk on Christmas Day the production of a fork with food on it last week resulted in Isabelle opening her eyes wide and her mouth wider coupled with her downing milk quicker than rugby team does its pints convinced us that she was now ready for weaning.
Happily this also coincided with the tail end of a third off pretty much everything baby related in Sainsbury’s (bar formula milk naturally, darn you EU bureaucrats) which meant a trolley dash reminiscent of Supermarket Sweep minus the giant inflatable banana and a perma-tanned Dale Winton as we filled our trolley with everything from rusks, porridge, breakfast and jars and packets of everything from roast dinners to desserts.
It’s almost Willy Wonka-esque in some of the food flavours, almost as if someone has had a random food ingredient generator, featuring the likes of sweet potatoes pumpkin apples and blueberries, yes, all in one packet, and butternut squash, carrots, apples and prunes and Yorkie, Twix, Dime Bar and that green triangle from Quality Street, okay so perhaps I made that last one up (for now).
There were the usual jars of baby food, you know like the ones that Robocop ate, no seriously, and foil pouches, looking like something from NASA, full of pretty much everything bar pizza and ice-cream. Obviously we had to get a wide range of items as yet we have no idea what Isabelle likes the taste of or not, a fact and taste finding mission for us all then. Thus far it’s been a taste sensation for her.
At the moment it’s only been the rusks and the porridge but Isabelle certainly hasn’t been complaining as she has been eating it quicker than Goldilocks in a bear’s house. The great thing now is that Sarah and I can eat our food without feeling guilty as it almost felt like we should be eating in secret or with bags on our heads, or nosebags or something.
Now all Sarah and I can do is brace ourselves, along with her nappies and, no doubt, my work shirts as well.