Sunday 1 August 2010

Omelette offensive

Yesterday afternoon I was out at a friend's house with my girls, willing away that last, often torturous, hour between 4 and 5pm, and before heading home I called Tom to ask if he would have the girls' supper ready for when we got back.

In the car on the way home, Betty, having completely just worn me out by relentlessly play-fighting her baby sister around sharp-edged furniture for hours on end, asked: 'What's the matter mummy?' 'I will be fine once you are both in bed and asleep' I replied. 'Why mummy?' 'Just a few more minutes and we'll be home' I thought.

Tom's signature cheese omelette was waiting for them on the table when we walked in. I had warned Betty a few minutes earlier that she must not kick up a fuss if 'Daddy has cooked you omelette again'. She sighed and said 'I won't'.

Betty and Dolly sat at the table and within seconds chaos had ensued. Betty was saying 'I don't like your omelettes daddy' on a continuous animated loop, and Dolly was either chewing pieces of the offending egg and then spitting it out, or discreetly trying to place it in the trough of her bib, and then pointing at the ceiling to distract us.

Tom looked crestfallen, and even this morning he was still dwelling on it. As soon as he woke up he said 'I remember when Betty used to clamour for my omelettes.'

4 comments:

nappy valley girl said...

Poor Tom. It comes to us all....mind you, the boys won't touch any kind of egg, and havent' ever. I keep making boiled eggs with soldiers which I'm sure they must like eventually, but then I end up eating them myself....

nappy valley girl said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Elsie Button said...

hi nappy valley, that is what i do, but not just with egg, i always 'accidentally' cook too much for their dinner and then eat the leftovers. and then wonder why i am still fat.

Iota said...

Oh Tom, Tom, Tom. You break my heart. She'll be falling in love with other men, before you know it, and then one day you'll be walking her down the aisle, with a lump in your throat which says "I used to be the centre of her affections".

And in your speech, you'll say "...she used to clamour for my omelettes..." and everyone will wonder whether you've lost your marbles.