Sunday, 15 January 2012

Masterchef I ain't and don't want to be!

I have a confession to make. About once a fortnight, I stick a couple of slices of cheese on a piece of bread, zap it for 30 secs and call cheese on toast dinner for my 3.5 year old. He loves it, I'm completely fine with it (hey it was a whispered suggestion from the childcare director given the big lunch they eat) and he is fine. Not an ounce of puppy fat on that kid.

What I don't get is when your family's food choices and cooking prowess (or in my case lack of it) became everyone else's business? Why have birthday cakes and play date lunches and shock horror buying puree food out of a jar become a litmus test on your parenting. The other day at the park I got the frozen stare of Siberia when pulling out a packet of Tiny Teddys v's the butter beans and salad being offered to the other child. Don't worry the child had no manners, would not share his toys and was not toilet trained at 3. As long as he has his alfalfa, they were doing a great job.

Next time it happens I am so tempted to say that if it worries them that much, they are more than welcome to make an extra serving of organic chicken with quinoa for my lot (and me too). Any day out of the kitchen for me is a great day!

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