Just don't do it, people!
In an empty headed packing moment I forgot to take our portable high chair jobbie so I figured, on a visit to the recently moved and semi-unpacked in-laws, that it would be basically the same thing if I sat on the floor on his messy mat and held the boy firmly.
Nope.
It was almost impossible to hold my standing, crawling, rolling, wriggling son still; he was on the floor, he could see lots of interesting things, he knew that with just the right twist and wriggle combo he could get away from me to investigate them in person.
He had his carefully selected curry in front of him but was totally unable to concentrate with all the distraction and unusualness so pretty much just threw it around and over the mat, himself, me, passing strangers, whoever.
Then, realising he couldn't get away he turned around to give me a great big sticky, multicoloured, chicken tikka masalarey hug. All over my new jacket.
Floor curry: The Boy 1, Mummy Nil.
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