Never do I feel more mummy-like than when I’m making jam sandwiches. I don’t even remember having jam sandwiches as a kid, but for some reason they’re intrinsically linked to childhood; something about the cut off crusts, soft white bread and sticky fingers. Our boys love them.
There’s something about food that resonates certain memories within us as we grow up. My mum gave Noah a boiled egg and soldiers the other day in the same egg cup I used as a little girl. But it wasn’t the egg cup that took me back to my youth, rather the food itself; something in the name – egg and soldiers. It just makes me feel all sentimental. The same with Fish Fingers (I never liked them much; my parents persisted in giving them to me though. Another childhood thing, being pressured into eating meals you didn’t really want or like, but that you forced yourself to eat due to the promise of pudding afterwards.)
Mmm, pudding. *cracks open a tub of Ben and Jerry’s* Now that I like. And I didn’t need to eat any manky breaded fish to get it!