The culinary palate of a three year old

On Sunday, we played parents and babysat Jack.

 

 

Actually, it was a last minute thing. And I'd already promised my stomach brunch. Since I'm not one to let a small, stubborn child spoil my breakfast plans, I decided we'd just go ahead and take the kid with us. In fact, i totally got into the urban-mom thing. Here i am, decked out with the ultimate accessory - a red pram. I look cool right? But here's the thing - pushing a pram around Crows Nest is not as fun as the other mummy's make it look. Actually, its friggen hard work. I spent most of our walk pleading with Jo to swap places. "What if you just push it up this hill? Huh? Then I'll take over again, I SWEAR!"

 

 

 

Our destination was St Malo Bakery in Crows Nest, which is one of my favourite places to eat around here. I left Jo to deal with the pram (I mean shouldn't they have parking bays, like every other method of transportation in this city?????) while i took orders.

"Jack, what do you want to eat?"

He looks at the menu, as if he can actually read the choices available, before announcing (with some authority): "I want a brioche with jam and butter."

A brioche? Really?

Jo cuts in. "What's a brioche?" I realise my three year old Godson has a more advanced palate than my husband.

"I don't think they have brioches here." I say.

But Jack remains unperturbed. "Then I'll have a croissant. With jam and butter."

I ask him if he wants some juice, which he does. "What flavour?"

"Blood orange flavour."

Jo nearly falls off his chair. Brioche, croissant, blood orange juice? What can I say, the kid should have been born in France.

Here's the boys, enjoying their food...

And here's Jack enjoying his Jam, which he prefers to eat straight. No pastry necessary. Although he offered to share half of his croissant with Jo, he claimed full rights to all condiments.

 

 

 

The kid and me. We love each other really.