Food-gate at the school gate

One week in to the endless summer holidays, with endless days stretching endlessly ahead of us all, I thought I’d post a lovely little reminder of the delightful experiences of term time we’re missing out on now the school holidays are upon us to help ease the pain.

Let me set the scene. The sun is shining. Expectations are high for a fun-filled (happy) afternoon ahead. We live approximately 300 yards from school. Not a long walk most would agree, even if you’re only five. Especially if you’re five and your mum lugs your scooter to and from school every day for you. Even though the flipping thing bashes her shins the whole way - and does she moan? She does not!

But no. It’s 'miles' according to my five year old who, when we’re barely out of the school gates, announces that she's hungry and wants a snack. Now this isn’t just your ordinary ‘mummy I’m feeling a bit peckish so I need to eat something soon, but of course I can wait until we walk for the (not even) five minutes it takes to get home’. No, this is ‘why on earth did you think it acceptable not to bring me a snack for the journey home - I am starving and I can’t move until I eat’.

Me: I literally don’t have any food on me, sorry. We have a five-minute walk to get home. The longer we stop here with you telling me I should have bought you a snack, the longer it’ll take to get home and the more hungry you’ll be (simple, no?)

Child (crying): I literally can’t move - my tummy is sad because I’m so hungry.

Me: We have a little bit of a problem then. What exactly do you expect me to do? I have no food. I can’t magic food here for you.

Child (screaming): But you should have bought something. I can’t move, I’m so hungry.

Me: I bought your scooter so you don’t actually have to walk, you simply glide.

Child: I can’t move. You should have bought the car.

Me: I’m not loading your brother and his pram into the car, driving 300 yards to school, unloading your brother and the pram, walking to your classroom then back to the car to put in you, your brother and the pram, driving 300 yards home then unloading you all from the car.

Child (crying more): Why not? It’s not fair. You should have bought the car. And a snack.

Me (using best soothing voice): Do you see anyone else having a snack? No, because they're all walking home to get their snacks. Shall we get moving so we can get home to get you something to eat?

Child (inconsolable): But you should have bought something with you, you’re making my tummy sad.

Me: OK I think we both agree I should have brought a snack and that your tummy is sad because of it, but how do I explain this in simple terms (again)? I don’t have any food on me. The longer we stand here the more hungry you’ll get. How about you tell me what you want to eat so I can make it as soon as we get home so it’s quicker? (Congratulate self on quick thinking and multi-tasking ability, especially when have baby brain.)

Child (wailing): Now you’ve made me feel more hungry talking about the food.

Me: OK, well let’s get moving then so we can get you some food.

Child: I’m not moving. I can’t move. I’m too hungry.

Me: OK stay here on your own then (bold move but am at end of tether and seriously considering it for own sanity). Actually this could backfire, she’s a stubborn one. (Side note - I’m a responsible parent, honest. I would not leave five year old on own in street - would not inflict that on neighbours for a start.)

We glare at each other for what seems like hours in a no-blinking stand off. I feel my eyes twitch in pain. I tell myself it’s due to tiredness but she does not blink for a full minute and I suspect I’m in trouble. She's good, really good.

Child (really crying. So much so I can feel whole street watching, thinking I must be awful mother to make child this upset. Want to knock on doors to explain this is hangryness on another level): I want a cuddddddlllllleeeee.

Ooh OK. this is a turn up for the books - I don’t want to get ahead of myself here but I think the tables may have turned. Feel self getting irritable as now not really in mood to dole out cuddles after epic dramatic performance. Decided to adopt stern (but fair) approach.

Me: You can have a cuddle when we get home (if we ever get home) and when you stop crying.

Child: Now you’ve made me more sad I can’t stop crying. I need a cuddllllllleeeee.

We’re going to have to move house, definitely will need to hide indoors on day of street party.

Assertive me: Please stop crying now and start walking.

Child eventually caves and combines crying with walking (slower than an 80-year-old snail with a limp).

Finally reach front door. The relief is indescribable (for about five seconds).

Me: So, what would you like to eat?

Child: I don’t know.

Me: OK, so how about a sandwich?

Child: No

Me: Fruit?

Child: No

Me: Bread sticks?

Child: I don’t know

Me: Fish fingers?

Child: I don’t like fish fingers (what????)

Me: Pasta?

Child: I can’t wait for pasta I need it now

We literally run through the entire contents of the fridge, freezer and cupboards before settling on, you guessed it, a sandwich.