Despite the snow's best efforts to prevent me, I have managed to get Gilby to his first few settling in sessions at nursery this week, in preparation for my return to work.
Feeling guilty about the whole process anyway, I have taken extra care with packing his bag and preparing his lunch and bottles. Everything is carefully named; special 'dishwasher-proof' labels on the plastic items and his cot sheets have his name sewn in. I never do sewing! It is as though all this extra detail will somehow make up for the fact that I will not be with him through the day soon.
Anyway, he went off for his first half-day yesterday, and the one thing I had forgotten to get was a lunch-box for him. So I just took an old ice-cream container, put his name on the top and filled it with all his goodies. He's only just weaning so we are still at the mush and puree stage.
Now, I also keep an old ice-cream container near the sink to fill with scraps for the chickens. It makes me feel good to throw out less rubbish, and the chickens feast on Gertie's left over porridge, the vegetable peelings, the remains of supper. You know where this is going, don't you?
My husband did the nursery run yesterday morning, taking Gertie and Gilby in together for the first time. He was explaining all the timings carefully to the nursery carer who would have responsibilty for Gilby.
"And my wife has made him a delicious lunch..." and he lifted the lid of the carton with a flourish - to reveal the extremely unappetising chicken scraps. You quite literally would not feed them to a dog.
(Much laughter ensued, and he did come back and get the right box but I have a feeling that I will not be allowed to forget this...)