Bite me, Plunket

If at any point in the last couple of weeks Al and I had stopped and had the slightest pause over whether Plunket may or may not be right about the whole solids thing, we shall cease to worry henceforth. Actually, we haven't (worried) at all (even a little bit), but it was all well and truly confirmed for us yesterday. I toddled off to coffee group in the morning, as I do of a Wednesday, and by the time I got home Cuinn was completely and utterly smashed. Asleep on his feet as it were. K-n-a-c-k-e-r-e-d. Not in a good frame of mind for lunch. So I put him to bed with a boob feed, and no solids (he normally has apples at lunch. I really should find some vege recipes. He's such a little ginger. Loooves sweets). No harm, no foul, he didn't seem to miss them. Until we sat down for dinner. In the time it took Al to set the fire, Cuinn had, no exaggeration at all inhaled 4 teaspoons of apple and there wasn't even any on his bib (we skipped the baby rice in favour of using the apples I'd defrosted for lunch). Or his face. And I swear that if the kid could talk, he'd have echoed the immortal words of his Uncle Alex, once uttered in great horror at a restaurant "Is that it?". Poor kid. No more skipping solids at lunch, or any time really. We're committed.

And now, I feel the need for a cup of tea and some cake and bless, the husband is preparing same. I feel fabulous today. I'm working on something which is hilarious and keeping me amused for the moment. It's probably only hilarious for me of course, so if it turns out that I'm definitely alone in the hilarity just call me a psychiatrist and be done with it, but of course, also be cheerful that you got two blog posts in a row.

(Damn. There are drawbacks to the husband making me morning tea. I always get little pieces of cake. I much prefer big pieces of cake)