As a family it would be fair to say we like puddings. I’m strongly in the camp that calls them puddings not desserts, I don’t know if that says something about me or not but that’s just how we are. Puddings. Most times pudding consists of either fruit, yoghurt or a fruit pie if the kids are lucky. On rare occasion, it will be a trifle.
Trifles have now been banned from our house, following an incident that will forever be known as Trifle Gate. That’s right, it’s big enough to get the proper noun treatment and the capitalisation that goes with it.
I had cooked a rather idiosyncratic meal at the behest of the kids- roast potatoes, vegetables and pan fried trout fillets. For the kids I cut the trout into finger strips and battered them prior to frying them, in some vague attempt to get them to eat something. It’s odd that at the moment the kids are disavowing all knowledge of their previous love of fish; they all used to eat it in quantities that would beggar belief but at the moment don’t seem to want to know.
After a prolonged period of lying on the floor, alternately sobbing and raging to the heavens, I managed to get him to eat some more fish so he could move on to the trifle. Nobody else was allowed a look in at scraping the bowl out and to be honest nobody else wanted to be in the same room as the boy.
No more trifle in this house.