Occasionally I have to congratulate myself on my ingenuity in the kitchen.
Tonight faced with not a lot at all, for a gluten-free babba to eat, I whipped up a "God Knows What" concoction of tuna, sweetcorn and potato, with a sprinkling of cheese, arranged it fetchingly on his cutest spongeware baby dish, and presented it to my son in his highchair.
There was silence. He did not pick up his fork. He looked at me. Looked away from me. and then with his eyes fixed firmly over my head, muttered the immortal words:
This din-dins stinks Mummy.
I have never been so ashamed in my life. I mean really, what kind of Mother serves stinky food to her pride and joy??
Call social services, then lock me up and throw away the key.