Lashings of hot buttered everything

Lucy has developed a near obsessive fascination with the art of buttering toast. And buttering bread. In fact if it can be buttered, she is probably prepared to do it. Things have got so bad that we have bought two lots of butter/margarine/spread/whatever-21st-century-term-you-prefer in order that the cheaper one is what Lucy uses when she has reached the point where she is spreading for the art of it rather than in much expectation of eating it.

Of course, when you combine her faultless generosity with this new habit, you have problematic consequences. The other day as Hayley and I sat eating dinner, Lucy sat in her high-chair and applied several tonnes of butter to a piece of baguette I had given her. Much to Hayley's amusement she offered it to me and I was obliged to eat it, secretly removing butter by the spoonful when she wasn't looking. Then Lucy set about the other piece. "Is that for you Lucy" I asked nervously. Still intent on her task and without looking up from her bread and butter she said with a tone that could have been Marlon Brando in The Godfather "Mummy's havin' it". Hayley's face was a picture and both of us could barely contain our laughter. Hayley went on a diet late last year to lose weight for the wedding (something regular readers will have noticed she has done pretty darn successfully). And she wasn't about to abandon her regime just before the big day. Nonetheless she too dutifully ate some before distracting Lucy's attention and avoiding any further consumption.

This evening while Hayley was out, I fed the kids dinner which concluded with a chocolate dessert each. In a moment of incredible naivety I left the room for all of 2 minutes. When I returned I fund that Oliver had decided to decorate his face with chocolate.



With this result.



Lucy obviously found this hilarious and joined in.



With this result.



I had to laugh, before managing to recover a more responsible demeanor and asking them not to do it any more (then going back into the kitchen to secretly laugh some more). Oliver obliged but unsurprisingly it was far too much fun for Lucy to listen to Daddy an I eventually confiscated her new face-pack.

Talking of finding it hard not to laugh, the other day Lucy surprised me by eating an apple and not spitting it out. After a few minutes however she walked over to where I was sitting on the floor and spat out, with loud raspberry noises, all the apple she had been accumulating in her cheeks for the last few minutes. As I implored her to stop and tried to catch the falling mush, she then turned on her heels and ran away laughing into the next room. All Hayley and I could do was double up laughing at her whilst trying not to let her hear. Sometimes it's hard to be a serious parent.