Rebel Baby is at a family gathering, where there is tea and cake.
“The Baby will love to try cake!” says Grandad.
“The Baby will not try cake,” says Mummy. “She is my wholesome and precious child who I will feed only organic rainbows and home-grown sunshine. She will not eat cake.” Mummy knows that when the baby starts eating cake, she will have to share her cake with The Baby. Mummy does not share cake.
“It is delicious cake,” says Grandad. “It is lemony and crumbly with sugar on top. The Baby will like this cake.”
There is a very lot of sugar on the top, observes Mummy. “The Baby does not need cake,” she says.
Grandad feeds The Baby cake.
“Mmmmmmmmmmm!!!!” says The Baby.
“See!” exclaims Grandad, “The Baby loves cake!”
The Baby has never tried cake. Of course The Baby loves cake. Now, The Baby is trying to get Mummy’s cake. There is cake all over The Baby and cake all over the floor.
“No more cake for The Baby,” says Mummy. She is trying to wipe dribbly cake slobber out of the clean-on expensive John Lewis baby dress with its crumb-catching corduroy crevises, and picking it out of the pristine carpet.
“More cake!” announces Grandad, and Rebel Baby is delighted. She claps and smiles, and gets more cake.
Mummy takes the cake away. It is hard to prise cake out of the tightly grasped fist of a carb-loving infant who has just discovered refined sugar. Rebel Baby growls at Mummy, clasps her sticky fists even tighter and rams handfuls of the sweet stuff into her mouth.
Mummy spends the next half an hour picking individual crumbs of lemon drizzle frosting off the pristine carpet with her fingernails.
Rebel Baby spends the next half hour racing Mummy, licking crumbs off the carpet with her tongue and squealing with delight.
Grandad is laughing at Mummy.
Mummy makes a mental note to feed The Baby her special curried cauliflower purée next week before Grandad comes to babysit. It does produce some quite stupendous nappies.