Pies and fries

One of the most important responsibilities parents have is to ensure their sprog or sprogs "eat properly."

At the beginning, it's easy - get as much milk down them as you can because, as all the books insist, "baby will tell you when he's had enough" (or, to be more specific, vomit on you).

But, as they get older and move on to solids, the challenge gets more difficult. For, not only do you have to try to get the right amount down them, but you also have to get the right sort of food down them. That, in modern parlance, means "healthy food."

Vanessa has been very good at this. Indeed, sometimes I come home and half expect a vegetable rather than a son to be sitting in the high chair having his tea.

However, babies - like the rest of us - are obviously temperamental and sometimes fancy something a little different from the norm. This morning provided a fine example of this.

Vanessa was doing her best to shovel Weetabix down Master White's gullet but he just wasn't in the mood. The first reaction - at least from me - was to think, "he's off his food, he can't be well, shall we call the doctor?" But then I noticed Jamie's eagle eye locked on to the pancake I was holding in my hand. Hmmm.

So I gave him a bit. And a pancake and a half later, I sped off for my train as he called out for more.

Do you know how healthy pancakes are? Not as healthy as Weetabix, I would have thought, but what do you do? Surely it was better to give him some pancake than leave him with an empty tum.

I tell you all of this because, on Friday, I was reminded of one of the dangers that Yorkshire poses for Jamie in the years ahead. The picture above was taken in a pub in Leeds as Wee John and I waited for a train to Sheffield. Yes, it was an impressive menu but with a definite theme - and even I know that pies aren't generally regarded as "healthy food."

Not that I would wish to stereotype Yorkshire folk or owt (see what I did there?), but pies are popular in Yorkshire. In fact, they're very popular. As is gravy. Oh, and chips.

That being the case, we're going to have to continue to teach our little man some food discipline. And as this morning showed, it isn't necessarily going to be easy - particularly as he gets more headstrong.

But, there again, matters could be even worse. And I sum this up in two short words.

Ulster Fry.