Aoife declared that fish pie was her absolute favourite (“remember Mummy, I used to eat it all the time when I was a baby” she ate anything when she was a baby) and every day after school she asked for it. I do cook a lot but usually only things I like.
I hate fish pie. Hate it.
So, on one of those days when I felt I could probably try harder at being a good mum, I caved and duly purchased the bits to make the desired pie.
She’ll be over the moon, I’ll get Mummy points it’s a win win situation.
I got home and, with the help of Good Food, made the pie. It looked the business, I even put the children’s ones into individual ramekins, feeling bit Annabel Karmel I was very pleased with myself.
Hell I’ll go one better, I was SMUG.
Aoife skipped all the way home from school upon hearing what delights awaited, she’d won a lolly so a small part of the joy may have been because of that.
She asked every three minutes if it was nearly cooked and she looked suitably impressed when presented with her meal.
“Oh thank you Mummy, this looks lovely”
She tucked right in. Then it began….
“What are these yellow lumps?”
“Haddock, it’s fish”
“What are these orange lumps?”
“Salmon, the ‘lumps’ are fish”
Aoife promptly removes the ‘lumps’ from her fork,
“I’ll leave those bits”
“But you’ve been asking for fish pie all week!”
“Yes but I don’t like the fish bit”
“What did you think was in fish pie?”
“I don’t know, mash and peas?”
“NO. THAT’D BE CALLED MASH AND PEAS”
She proceeded to eat her tea (she really wanted her lolly) with a look on her face that I once had when my Dad made me sit at the table and eat the sausage casserole he had made (I still wretch thinking about it).
“Mummy, I really don’t like fish pie, don’t make it for me ever again. Never”
Smug face gone. Zéro point.