PostingTeatime shift the hardest in mothering

The hardest shift in mothering is late afternoon. The stairs to our second-floor flat become steeper than only hours earlier, as my daughter and I struggle up them to face the shared daily ordeal of tea, bath and bed-time. I clockwatch as the minutes crawl by from 5.30pm to 7pm, awaiting my husband's return from work.

Tea-time last night was fraught. Unlike we adults K does not engage in social pretensions. When she doesn't like food, she waves it away with an imperious gesture. I admire her honesty, as well as resenting it.

Enthroned in her ergonomic high chair, which I wish I could say I scrub down nightly, but don't, she watched me scrabble in the freezer for food, heat it, decant it, and ferry it to her. Cue the dismissive wave. Still just 5.30pm? Surely not.

Sweet potato and chicken was rejected, before she relented slightly and consented to eat a little. Apple puree got a warmer reception. Her biscuit was an outright success. She placed it in her hand, then put her bunched up fist, containing the biscuit, in her mouth, and sat like that for about ten minutes, sucking in a contemplative fashion.

At 5.45pm my husband got home and caused me to rethink my views on this time of day. For in his hands was a bunch of luminous pink roses, for me.

Posted 28 April 2007 06:39

Daughter Home Husband Food

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