One of the biggest challenges of being a working mum is that nagging fear in the back of your mind that you will miss your baby’s firsts; the first step, the first word, the first taste of something new (and the Tigger-esque facial expression that goes with it). I know I was there for her first word (a burp that sounded exactly like “Mummy” at 3 weeks old) and I’m fairly confident that I saw her first steps, but I’ve probably missed a few things along the way. But we were both definitely there for her most recent first.
In a moment of exceptional good fortune I was born to have an Aunt and Uncle with a farm that includes a fair few acres of strawberry fields. The northern hemisphere side of the family all met up at their farm last weekend to celebrate a double birthday, and despite seeing Kitty put away almost her entire body weight in strawberries during the birthday lunch (and some cream and meringue to boot), she and her little second cousin were invited out into the fields after lunch to pick their very first properly fresh strawberries.
Going to visit as a small child it was one of our greatest treats to be allowed out in the fields for strawberries (along with playing on tractors, watching the potato riddler, and learning how to weld our initials into old plough shares) and we always came back sticky, pink and happy, so it was pretty special to watch Kitty have the same experience.
Neither she nor R-J were too sure about walking on the straw to start with, but once they got the hang of it, and realised that strawberries on the plants were the same as the ones in the bowl at lunch …! Well lets just say, she took her Hello Kitty bowl, she filled her Hello Kitty bowl, and it was empty by the time she got to the end of the row – and not all of them were fed to Daddy.
You can’t get fresher than that.