Now that I’m up to my neck in parenthood, I have revised – and retracted – every child-related promise I ever made. You know the ones – my children will never eat sweets / biscuits / crisps; my children will never watch television; and my favourite – I will never ever lie to my children. I mean what sort of parent lies to her children? A weak, lazy one, obviously. One who can’t be bothered to deal with repercussions, who doesn’t respect them enough to spend time being honest, who’s too self-absorbed to tell the truth...
And so you’d think that I would be slightly shocked to find that these days, those little lies just roll right off my tongue, almost unnoticed.
Admittedly, we’re not talking great big lies. I haven’t (yet) told the Boy I’m stopping the car and he can get out and walk, for instance (tho’ I swear it’s only a matter of time). Or that he’s being sent to boarding school at the earliest opportunity. (Although I did suggest to a friend who’s having problems with her pre-teen that she leave a brochure for a school in her home country lying around for the child to find...) . But the baby lies are mounting up. “What’s that Mummy?” (Cue chocolate biscuit to be stuffed in my mouth) – “Nothing darling, just Mummy’s bread.” “What’s that Mummy?” (then horror realization) – “Not-medcin-not-med-cin-not-medcin”. “No sweetheart, it’s not medicine, it’s just special sugar that I have to put in your drink to make it taste nice, yum yum.” Etc etc.
It’s mainly that I just don’t have the time, energy or patience to go through every single adult-decision I make, with a 2 year old. So when I say “Please stop drawing on the floor” (ah there I go lying again. What I in fact shriek say is “Stop that RIGHT NOW howmanytimesdoIhavetotellyou”) and he says “Why Mummy?” – all sweet and innocent, but there’s no hiding the glint of boldness in his eye – my honest response should be something along the lines of: “Because you’re creating so much more work for me to do, I don’t have time to scrub the floors down again, and I don’t want you to get into the habit of doing it.” But really, what’s the point in saying that to a toddler? Almost as much point as saying: “Because I told you so.” Both get equally ignored.
So instead I go into a patter, which has him wide-eyed, about the Man Who Owns the House (he features regularly in my tellings offs) and how he’ll knock on the door and be Very Cross. A variation of this is the Policeman lie, which gets rolled out for more major or public offences, such as when the Boy Houdini attempts to extricate himself from his car-seat - “You have to stay in your seat or the Policeman will knock on the car door and be Very Cross” – or picks up a stone and heads, arms outstretched, toward a shiny car. (All this resulted in him telling a car-washing neighbour yesterday to be careful with the car or the policeman would be Very Cross; thankfully to anyone else’s ears it’s just babble, but I couldn’t help but feel a bit ashamed of myself).
But the shame doesn’t stop me. Nothing can stop me. The lies have now infiltrated my cooking, and, yes, I have turned into one of those people who hides vegetables in her children’s food, cunningly disguised as... mush.
The Boy won’t eat soup, for instance. “Don’t LIKE IT” he wails, having not even had a taste of the stuff. I, on the other hand, love soup. It’s quick, healthy, and my dinner of choice when the Man is away (he refuses to have it for dinner, apparently it’s “lunchtime” food, or something). It’s also easy to double the quantity being made and freeze the surplus so, theoretically at least, a vat of it should solve all toddler lunch dilemmas for a few days at least. But what to do when said toddler purses his lips and swivels his head 180 degrees?
You lie, of course. Throw in a handful of penne, sprinkle on some cheese and lo! it’s not soup, it’s pasta! Hurray.
See? Lying does have its benefits most of the time sometimes.
Delicious Broccoli / Cauliflower & Cheese Soup.
You Need:
· A head of Broccoli or Cauliflower (or half of each) – leaves discarded but keep and chop the stalks - roughly chopped
· A large onion, chopped
· A celery stalk, chopped
· A potato, peeled and chopped
· A medium-sized chunk of strongish cheddar (or other strong hard cheese)
· A litre of vegetable stock (Marigold preferably)
· Some olive oil
· Three or four cubes of frozen chopped spinach (if you have to hand – just adds extra vits and iron)
You also need a hand-held blender (well worth the investment if you don’t already have one)
Heat olive oil in a pot over a medium-high heat, and add the chopped onions. Leave for about 3-4 mins, stirring occasionally, then add the chopped celery. Cover pan, lower heat to just below medium, and leave for 5 mins or so.
Add chopped potato, stir, and a splash of water – to stop it sticking. Cover and leave for a couple of minutes, while you roughly chop the broccoli / cauliflower.
Add the broccoli / cauliflower, and cover with the stock by about a cm. Bring to the boil then reduce heat, and simmer for about 12-15 mins – until all the vegetables are very soft.
Take off the heat and blitz with the blender, to mush-like consistency, adding additional stock (or milk) if it’s too thick for your liking.
Grate the cheese directly into the pot, stirring with every couple of gratings, so that the cheese melts evenly. Taste it each time you stir – the amount of cheese needed depends on your own taste.
Adults – eat for lunch (or dinner, if you’re feeling reckless) with bread, wine, salad, whatever.
Children – eat as soup, if you're an angel child. Otherwise listen to your mother who tells you it’s just special cheese sauce for the pasta, and gobble up. Or else the policeman might come and be Very Cross.
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