Sad to say, but the first taste the girl will have had besides milk will be, as for her bro, cherry.
And no, it wasn't cherry chapstick (not that theres anything wrong with that), rather cherry flavoured 'panadol for kids', the end result of a very unhappy little girl with a sore tummy.
In fact, cherry is now arguably the first taste a modern noughties kiddie gets outside of milk and spew. Which probably tastes like milk.
The reason for the upset tum tum??
Well, it may have been the cake.
The story is something like this..
Having been somewhat indisposed on his birthday (what with a certain little miss coming into the world and all that), dad didn't really get a chance to celebrate the 40th anniversary of his birth. Hence the somewhat amazing chocolate mud cake from some fancy schmancy Mt Eliza bakery was bunged in its box and into the freezer for safe keeping.
Gordon Ramsey would have had kittens.
Hence said cake was kinda forgotten about till the weekend before last.
"Hey, lets do birthday cake...!" chimed dad.
So they did. With a nice organic decaf plunger coffee on the back deck in the glorious spring sun.
The thing was so solid yet sticky you needed a crowbar to lever your own gums apart when eating, but it was divine - at least the quarter the family was able to eat before they all started rolling about like Mr Creosote.
By the end of it all, Master M looked like he'd stuck his head in a bucket of mud. It. Was. Bliss.
But bliss it was not for poor little Miss S, who subsequently was ratty as all get up, most uncomfortable in the aforementioned tum and windy. Indeed, not a happy camper at all.
Could we have evolved the worlds first chocolate-averse daughter???
Being scientists we needed a repeat experiment.
(Plus Master M wanted cake and was singing the song.)
And sure enough, it does appear to give Miss S's tummy the grumbles.
Granted the medical profession probably hates us, but a quick look on the web reveals that it probably wasn't the caffeine getting into mums milk, rather it may well have been the theobromine, a.k.a the stuff that makes your dog puke if the bugger eats your easter egg collection.
And while common or garden variety Cadbury's probably doesn't contain enough to knock many people about, it seems the fancy bakers chocky actually has the highest theobromine of all and is a definite suspect in the tummy trubs.
From now on we get our cakes from Brumbies.
In the mean time master M and dad have been sneaking the odd bit of cake from the fridge without letting mum see.
It's less cruel that way.
In fact to compensate for his sister, Master M has subsequently developed a choccy fixation that appears to be entering his wider psyche.
e.g., He no longer sees "Scrufty" jumping in muddy puddles in his Bob the builder books. He's jumping in chocolate. (And woe betide the parent who tells him otherwise.)
And arguably somewhat un-PC, he arrived home from childcare proudly announcing how he'd played with his little dark skinned friend that day:
"I licked Kulkin! Kulkin made of chocolate!".
Oh dear.
That's so 'Hey Hey its Saturday'.
Its entirely possible all this chocolate thought has fired him up a little too much though, cos the lads learnt to run.
We're not quite sure when it officially happened as we're not Olympic walking judges able to white flag away a gold in one fell swoop (we still feel for you Jane Saville), but its clearly happened.
However... (there's always an 'however') it unfortunately appears that the boys running has the nimbleness of an oil laden supertanker, and hence his dashes are somewhat restricted to a straight lines.
Which would kinda explain his inability to divert around a tree that was in his path when he went all Usain Bolt on us at the zoo.
'WHACK!!!"
Nose first, straight into the sapling.
The sound alone brought tears to our eyes. Let alone his.
He subsequently looked like he's gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson, only the parallel universe Mike Tyson that bites noses instead of ears.
Poor lad.
We bought an icy pole to try and get something cold onto his proboscis, however as soon as he realised it was an icy pole, he stopped his shallow moaning (yes, remarkably there was only momentary crying, and more an understandably sooky moan) and he just wanted to eat it.
(Oh the healing powers of cheap icy confectionery. Surely if they could combined flavoured ice
with penicillin humans would live for all eternity)The upshot of all this - everyone said "Ouch!" when they first saw him, and he proudly would announce "I ran into a tree!" as though it was an act a sane person would do.
Note to parents; teach them to turn.
Finally, a couple from the "from the mouths of babes" file.
Article A:
"Sarah s talking!" said the boy...
"Is she? What's she saying?" asked mum
"I love Michael!"
Awwww.... schucks.
Article B:
Mum was chatting with dad about how things used to be pre-progeny, and started saying "...yes, but, if we cast our minds back to the old days..." when the boy interrupted sharply.
"NO. It's the way it is."
So right you are lad.
So right you are.
Ok, we would end there but we really had to add this one.
The best name we've encountered for a child care worker thus far - master M's new carer...
Ms Smack.
(Tru Dinks.) Print this post
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