Banana Phobia

Anyone who knows me knows about my relationship with bananas. We are not friends. Even a little bit. It all started when my mum left me for the first time with Grandma and she fed me mashed banana on toast. Apparently the whole scenario was so horrific for me that I have never eaten banana (or any other fruit, I'm embarrassed to admit) since. It's something about the sliminess and the too-yellow smell. And the way they go brown at the edges, but people still eat them. My hate of the bendy ones is so great that as a kid other children would chase me around the school yard with them aimed like pistols, and work colleagues have been known to anonymously place them in my desk drawer just for laughs. Ha. So, it is a testament to my maturity and greatness as a Mother that this week I fed Cal banana. Worse - I fed him mashed banana which increases the sliminess by the power of 10. Some even dripped on my wrist, but still I kept my isn't-this-delicious-face on, cause if being a parent isn't all about righting the wrongs of our forefathers, then what is? So when Cal developed a swollen lip and little cheek rash today, I gave the universe a big high-fuck-yeah-five. Excuse my French. What can I say, the kid's allergic to bananas!

Cal's first and last banana, July 2012