It is impossible to leave the house in the company of a one year old without carrying enough supplies to equip and run a small Antarctic Expedition.
Everywhere we go, we are accompanied by change of clothes, nappies, toys, drink and most importantly, as You must be mad has dinned it into me during my 2 days training that Little G is not to be exposed to the addictive lure of sugary treats: a packet of rice cakes.
Today, we head out to our favourite cafe for a snack break. Behind the counter are treacle tarts, peanut butter chocolate brownies and Portuguese cheesecakes
I check Little G's supplies. No rice cakes. I have clearly failed in my duties. Worse, I cannot, in all conscience sit munching cake while Little G has nothing to eat. So we bid a sad farewell to the cafe and trudge hungrily back home.
A short while later, I am in the kitchen making Little G's lunchtime cheese sandwich, when I notice that it has gone suspiciously quiet next door. I trek into the living room. No immediate sign of her.
Then I hear a rustling behind the sofa. I peer round the side
Little G is sitting on the floor, the open packet of rice cakes (which must have fallen out of the buggy unnoticed by me) next to her. From her contented expression, it is clear that mass consumption has recently taken place.
I eat her cheese sandwich in stoical silence.
To be continued ... ...