Dinner, dinner, dinner, dinner, dinner, dinner, dinner, dinner BATMAN!

Ok so a bit of a misleading title, but you do need to be a bloody superhero when it comes to feeding time in our house!
 

Mind manipulation Professor X style, Speed enthusiast The Flash, Super human grip Spiderman… I’m slowly honing my skills!

 

Me: What do you want for tea kiddies?

T: What we got?

Me: Sausage and mash, spaghetti bolognaise, pizza….

T: Pizza

R: Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo gravy!

T:Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Me: Fine I’ll decide for you.

T & R: Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

 

Me: Sausage and mash and gravy it is!

T: Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

R: Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy!

 

Oh FFS you can have separate dinners then. Anything for an easy life

Dinner is cooked on the table and children are sat ready.

 

R: I don’t want it.

 

Me: Well you’re having it cos it’s what you asked for (you will eat it…. Said in head testing my non-existent telepathy/jedi skills!)

 

I tend to hide in the kitchen at this point. I don’t eat with them. No normal person sits down to eat their tea at 5pm! The rare occasion I do sit with them usually results in me having half chewed food rammed at me with a look of distain that I actually gave them something nutritious and void of bright orange bread crumbs (this is the girl child, the boy has hollow legs, eats his dinner, hers and anything else going and tends to only stick his nose up at pasta unless he’s being particularly awkward that day). Either that or I feel like I’m having dying from indigestion!

 

So yes I’m hiding (avoiding) them.

 

R: Mummy can I have more drink?

 

Get cup, make drink, deliver, zip back to hiding.

 

T; Mummy? Can I have more drink?

 

Back I zip delivering more drink and then back to hiding.

 

T: Mummy I’ve finished… Mummy Can I have pudding now…. Mummy what’s for pudding? …….. Mummy?!?!?!!?

 

I feel like the bloody Flash (if the Flash had a day job as a fecking take away deliver man!) zipping in and out of the kitchen.

 

While this mad form of mummy exercise continues, the girl is proceeding to impersonate Thor and his hammer by bashing her spoon repeatedly into an innocent piece of sausage.

 

Me: It’s not going to disappear no matter how flat you try and make it!

R: I don’t like it… it’s cold, I’m not hungry!

Me: It’s only bloody cold cos you’ve spent the last 30 mins sticking your fingers in it and waving gravy up the wall! Eat it or no pudding!

T: I’ve. Finished. Mummy!

 

I already know this. I don’t need reminding. He’s told me very minute since his plate was empty.

I am at this point silently screaming inside – no wait, that’s not silent I’m actually omitting sound right now.

 

I also usually give in by now and remove the mashed slop! Pudding is usually over in 5 seconds flat. It’s amazing how quickly fromage frais can be consumed, when two bits of sausage and a spoonful of mash takes half a sodding hour! Also have you ever noticed how said fromage frais turns to vomit smelling concrete as soon as it hits clothing? I’ve chiselled off a fair amount from school jumpers in my time.

 

So all (kind of) fed, faces cleaned, children upstairs playing, all is well and time to relax…..

Yeah right!

 

R: Mummmmmmmmmyyyy! I’m hungrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry!

 

I’d love to say ‘Bog of daughter’ but with reluctance I shove a cereal bar in her direction and hope for the best!

 

Next stop bedtime! Yay!

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