It occurred to me two days ago, while eating my Eccles Cake, that Lily had just made two major breakthroughs. I do not mean that she can crawl forwards, pull herself up or wave at the words ‘bye bye’ and ‘hello’. All babies do that in time, as I am led to believe.
The first breakthrough was that she managed to pick up, nibble on and eat quite substantial parts of a bread stick sacrificed for the purpose (I am talking in the region of 1″). The second was that on the same day she also managed to consume a large quantity of raisins for the first time. Indiscriminately. I have little time for raisins usually, although my heritage dictates that I occasionally feel the need for an Eccles Cake day. [This reminds me that I still need to approach the OED with a query about why there is no opposite to the word ‘moreish’ and am also confused about what you call land that is not undulating. But that is a question for another day.]
What I found remarkable about this union of bread sticks and raisins was the link to her heritage. No, she has no Italian-Californian past that I am aware of. And the Eccles link is a long shot. Lily is something in the region of a half and a quarter northern, or 15 shillings.
The connection took me a while to spot, but I eventually realised that her mastery of finger foods linked bread and wine. As a good baptist, I should have realised this much sooner. A whole sermon could be written on the topic, with three headings beginning with the same letter, such as Weaning, Wheat and Wine: How the Last Supper relates to the modern phenomenon of Finger Foods, and What Babies can Teach us about God.
She sat in her chair, nibbling away in eager anticipation, with no fuss, no dropping bits over the edge and no queueing. It all happened easily and with the unannounced satisfaction that is another milestone.
I only hope I remember all this.
This is fantastic. I never know whether you’re being allegorical in this post. Which is how it should be.