November 9, 2012 by kitcac
After being ignored in the shops of Knutsford, I went for lunch in a rather swanky eaterie today with my chum Benno. Twas posh and twas delish.
JWop had his milk, followed by a pear, followed by some bread, followed by some burger (bad mother alert), followed by spicy tomato relish, followed by some potato (oh, ok it was a chip, I admit it, call Social Services on me).
Seeing as how I started giving him solid food only two short weeks ago, he is eating like a horse.
He is loving food. Its a bit of a pain that he has developed a habit of getting a mouthful of food and then blowing a raspberry, so I am sprayed at every mealtime with a variety of foods.
Porridge, chicken, cheese, avocado, pasta, banana, naan bread, yoghurt. I have had them all raspberried onto my face and hair. But not raspberries, oddly enough.
This food-blowing can be quite awkward in social situations.
For example, I met a woman that Stavros went to school with last weekend. I have never seen her before in my life. She pointed out I had something in my hair, so being ever the lady I sniffed it. It was a fine coating of strawberry yoghurt, like a dairy-based strong-hold hairspray. My hair was a little bit stiff with it. So you get the picture. It must have been a good first impression.
After we had eaten at this posh Knutsford place today, I got JWop out of his seat and popped him onto my lap. He was reaching for my drink so I took the drinking straw out of my Diet Coke for him to play with and, like everything else, the straw automatically went into his mouth.
Unfortunately, JWop then burped and some sick rose up into his mouth.
Then he raspberried it.
And because he had the straw in his mouth, he forced it out of his mouth like a pea shooter and vomit shot out of the end of the straw and flew across the table, like a long streak of thin white bird poo.
Luckily, it just missed Benno’s empty plate, but we both watched in horror as it flew towards her in slow motion.
“Nooooo, its vo-mmmmmm-ittttttt!”
Needless to say, I won’t be providing the boy with a vomit-pea-shooter-type device the next time I go to an eating establishment. Squirting high velocity sick at your lunch companion is not good table manners.