Luke is not what you would ever describe as slight. Or even slim. He has a stomach that looks as if it has taken 60 years of drinking beer to attain. This is not something I am particularly worried about as he'll trim down as he runs around chasing his brother - already since he started walking there are significantly less rolls of blubber around his legs.
The other day we went to register with an English speaking doctor, actually getting our act into gear to find a doctor before anyone needs one. The surgery was exactly what you would expect from a doctors surgery and the doctor was extremely nice and good with the children. All was boding well.
Lukey had not had any lunch was starting to give out those feed me now before I scream the place down signs. I rummaged around in my bag, located a cereal bar which had been there since we were in the UK and handed it over. Luke sat on the doctors chair, legs straight out in front, stomach doing its best to imitate Buddha's and stuffed his face.
A swift sideways glance later and the Doctor launched into a lecture about needing to feed children fruit and vegetables and to make sure they get a lot of exercise and the inherent dangers of obesity. I was taken aback and mortified. 'But...' I felt like crying 'it's carrot and orange and oats - sweetened only by organic apple juice, no artificial sweeteners or flavourings, it is so good for you it is probably negative calories!'
I haven't been able to find any cereal bars or equivalent here yet. It probably did look like I was stuffing him stupid with chocolate. Looking back, I have a horrible suspicion that the reason I felt so affronted was that if the doctor thought that I was feeding him chocolate he would assume that I was not a good middle class Annabel Karmel type of mummy, a stereotype so English that it is very unlikely the doctor would know it if it waved its organic, lentil stew, steamed vegetable hand in his face.