My Little Girl - The Tea Time Terror

I never imagined how something as simple as tea time at home could be so difficult as attempting to do so with a 2-year-old. We generally eat in the Royle Family style; you know, on our knees in front of the TV, but with a little more personal hygiene; due to our need to be entertained as we feast. You could say more fool us, but we have so much saved in our planner, and we never know how much time we will have in the evening (that's our story, and we're sticking to it!). The girl will be doing all manner of things as we cook, whether she has her own tea, she's playing with her toys, she's drawing in her notepad or she's placing her stickers here, there and everywhere; although no matter what, she'll halt the second we walk into the room, plate in hand.

Where little may have been on us before, all of her attention turns to us in a manner that is akin to a spotlight falling on a theatre star, albeit in not as dramatic a fashion. There will be no singing from me though; more of a sigh as I contemplate dodging her advances, and you can almost guarantee that I won’t get to sit down at the first time of asking. I’ve gotten into the habit of checking if she is ok beforehand, presuming she’s eating at the same time. Is her tea cool enough? Does she have the requisite fruit? Does she have a drink? Usually there will be an issue with one of the three, or a problem with some outside force (the wife, on occasion), which will force me back into the kitchen at least once.

Then I’ll be sat, ready to devour my food, and she’ll stop whatever she is doing to ask that most tiring of questions, “What you eating?” as I pray that it is something that doesn’t take her fancy. She’ll then walk over as I attempt to shovel what I can into my mouth in a way that is identical to Homer Simpson at an All You Can Eat Buffet; often burning my tongue in the process. Ordinarily, the best I can hope for is that she just shuffles my fodder around it’s base, but oftentimes she’ll offer up my goods to my wife, and vice versa; with more than a morsel or two ending up in her mouth; especially if she has been presented with the exact same thing (ours must look nicer). I’m my own worst enemy at times in this regard, as I ask, “do you want try?” and not much makes me happier than my girl trying something new.

Eventually, she will lose interest in what I have. This is when she’ll suddenly decide that she wants a yogurt or an ice lolly, or she’ll determine that she wants her juice in a cup; as opposed to her flask or a Fruit Shoot bottle. I’ll grumble as I place my dish on the arm of the chair and trudge off into the kitchen. It’s now that she’ll decide that it’s absolutely necessary that she goes to play in the kitchen, opening each cupboard and removing our bowls. All in all, I’ll be up and down three or four times before I’m digging into my typically lukewarm meal in relative peace (although she'll tend to ask me to disregard my dinner altogether and play!). However, even when I think it’s over, it’s not over. She’ll naturally have found just the one treat not to be sufficient and will commence with requesting one more, at which point my mood will dictate my answer; resulting in either a tantrum or her trotting off into the kitchen.

While not quite being up there with bedtime and her topsy turvy days with her cousin, tea time with my little girl is certainly stressful, and it can be even worse when we eat out. Either way, once all is said and done, I’ll be sat, brain sore and a little unfulfilled, pining for the days when she used to make a mess of everything from her highchair.

By Calum Dewsbury