The things children put in their mouths

Something worrying has happened to me……yesterday I baked a loaf of bread and a cake. The really worrying thing is that both the cake and the bread were really good – I mean really fucking good. It’s like I was born to bake and never knew it.

In case you were worried that I am turning into one of those domestic goddess types here is proof that I’m still lacking in the Mary Poppins stakes……

Is that chocolate cake round his mouth? No it’s earth from my houseplant.

Here is a list of other things my son recently put in his mouth: two handfuls of dried lavender, a whole orange, a pound coin, my flip flop, his own socks, some thyme, his bath water, a curtain hook, my collar bone.

This morning, after a delicious breakfast of banana and pears he still looked peckish. I gave him a soft and squidgy dried apricot (which he’s rather partial to) but he tossed the apricot aside in favour of some dust, fluff and crumbs that he found in the nook between the washing machine and the cupboard. This is not the worst thing he has eaten.

A few weeks back, in preparation for my return to work, I went clothes shopping with my friend Vivienne Westwood. The idea was that she controlled the baby and gave me her opinion while I tried on work clothes. The boy however; had other ideas. He was unsettled; so I took him into the changing room, placated him and put him on the floor while I squeezed into some navy trousers. But then he started crawling all over the place including under the door of the changing room next to me, so I gave him back to Vivienne and went back to see if I could make it a double trouser purchase (which never happens to me). Minutes later I returned triumphant, with two pairs of trousers. Vivienne Westwood, on the other hand, looked worried.

“He’s got something in his mouth.” she said.

I prised his jaws apart, his mouth overflowed with dribble and out plopped……a plaster…

We both screwed up our faces at the possibilities. What could be contained within that plaster? My son simply giggled and gave a toothy grin.

“It’s most probably from someone’s foot.” I said

The moral of this story is that children are as resilient as they are audacious. My son did not die of foot poisoning as I feared he might and I recall that my sister once stuck her finger up a Rottweiler’s arse and lived to tell the tale.