Friday 20 October 2017

Fussy eaters, and dusk at our place

I looked at the calendar this morning and realised we've been in NZ for six months already.  Which means that our wood burner has been going for approximately five months, three weeks and three days.  Give or take.

Yup, two-thirds through October and we're still lighting the thing almost every day.  And, for me at least, the novelty hasn't worn off yet.  The carting, the stacking, the sweeping, the kindling, it's all worth it.


I have a confession to make.  Baby A (how long until I have to call her Toddler A?) is a good eater - loves her food - but she eats jar food almost to the exclusion of anything else.  Well, she also eats cracker-type things, and weet-bix for breakfast.  And yoghurt.  But when it comes to her main meals, she only accepts food from a jar.

It's my own fault of course.  She started out on homemade pureed vegetables, then we got ready to move to NZ so I switched to packet food because: stress... and here we are.  She's been eating 90% packet food for over six months and now accepts no substitutions.  She likes anything, as long as it comes out of a jar or a packet.  Any tips on how to get her onto regular food??

To illustrate the depth of obstinacy in this child, she won't even try cake.  It gets dropped off the side of the highchair tray along with any other lovingly prepared meals.


McDonalds hash browns?  Acceptable.  Mum's mini-quiches?  Most likely poisoned.  I mean I thought J was fussy.  This is on another level.

So, yeah.  Like I said - any and all advice gratefully received!



On a different note, last night I got both kids into bed, stepped out the back door, then leapt back inside to get my camera.

The light, my god, the light.

I took approximately eleventy-billion photos which I have tried to whittle down for you.  These are pretty much unedited straight off the camera.




You know how baby animals get all skittish and crazy at dusk?  Our calves are no exception.  They have a well-worn racing circuit around their paddock and off they go, bucking and leaping.


With occasional stops for pats.




I love - no, I love - where we live.







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