What is it about sell-by dates that have the same effect on children as a Gordon Brown’s economic policy has on me?
The other morning I came down to have some breakfast with the kids.
I never for once imagine that rustling up some breakfast would require the same patience and brainpower as climbing Mont Blanc and then waiting for the snow to melt before coming down. It all started with the tea. I asked them to get the milk out of the fridge. They shouted that we didn’t have any. A blatant lie – I knew.. So, I stormed over there to find some milk staring them in the face.
“What about that?” I questioned, “That’s milk, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but that went out of date yesterday” came the reply.
Despite my reassurances they would survive this particular ordeal they elected to instead go without tea. Not me – and it tasted perfectly ok.
Then, they got the jam out of the cupboard. And of course, there was a hint of mould on the surface. The practical thing would have been, not to jump like a gun just went off and propel the entire jar in the deepest crevices of the kitchen bin as my kids did, but to scrape the mould off and continue to enjoy the jam as God intended.
So, gone are the days, where we drunk the milk and ate the jam, in date or out of date, and if we ended up with an upset stomach we simply said – well, in hindsight, perhaps we should have thrown those away earlier.
