How To Make A Fish-Scented Disaster

1. Take one snotty, coughing, over-tired, fragile toddler and place her on the precarious edge of dinner time.

2. Ensure that she is completely underwhelmed by any plaything by the time you get three saucepans simultaneously on the stove.

3. If you can manage it, ensure that you are the only adult present. (Some may find this easier than others - it is not mandatory, but being the sole grown up in attendance does tend to make this process even messier. Which, obviously, is what you want.)

4. If there are other children present, it is preferable if they too are irritable and over-tired. If they are behaving nicely, allow the toddler to upset them while your back is turned. Any little mishap will do.

5. Choose a dinner that you think will tempt your poor, sick toddler. For example, if you were the Mouse's mother, you might like to make a cheesy pasta bake (for comfort), with some steamed vegetables on the side (to make you feel better about vitamins and stuff). If you are really dumb, stir some fish through the cheese sauce before you add the pasta.

6. Place a bowl of lovely, steaming dinner in front of your little grumpy person. Ignore the fact that she is already waving the spoon and fork around like Genghis Khan. Smile encouragingly at her like the halfwit you are. If you are stupidly optimistic, sit at the table with a serving of dinner in front of you. You might enjoy looking at it. Briefly.

7. Observe your poorly wee poppet marinate themselves in the mornay sauce. Since this is the first meal they have touched all day, the least you can do is sit on your hands while they tuck in heartily with their fork, spoon, hands and hair.

8. Try not to sigh too heavily at the sight your your toddler at the end of their meal. After all, cheesy, fishy pasta rubbed and squeezed all over the body, clothes, furniture and cat is simply an expression of thanks for the meal, right?

9. Ignore the pristine vegetables placed carefully to one side of the table. Your child will not perish without those nutrients for one night. And the dribbles of fishy cheese on them may perhaps entice the dog...

10. As you strip the now-grinning cherub in their seat, try to avoid the food-smeared hands that flail near your clean pants. Encourage your child to instead 'clean' their hands on a tea towel, face washer, or a sibling. Anything but having to find yet another clean pair of jeans to wear tomorrow.

11. Steer the fish mornay-encrusted creature down the hall towards to bathroom, ignoring the globs of pasta and cheese that dot the floor as she walks. (Note: the mewling, delighted cats closely following the trail of the toddler may disgust some people. Take my lead - let their presence be a positive rather than a negative. By the shower's end, your floor will be sparkling clean...and the cats will not beg for their dinner quite so early)

12. Stand the toddler under a stream of warm water in the shower (a bath in this instance would NEVER do! I repeat: Do NOT bath a toddler covered in cheesy fish. The subsequent task of cleaning the bath doubles the angst) and scrub with some sort of fairy-scented gear. Observe how your toddler becomes magically charming again as the fishy gick sloughs off under the spray.

13. Dress your sweet-smelling toddler in warm, nubbly pyjamas, handed down through three children and slightly too small (so that her full belly pokes against the buttons). Calmly ignore the horrific mess at the kitchen table. It isn't going anywhere.

14. Quickly and quietly address the hygiene and pyjama-options of your other children (if present). Brush three sets of teeth, comb three heads, read bedtime stories to all and sundry.

15. Begin the odious task of cleaning the table, floor, kitchen and cat after this tempting meal. Take your time while your children sit, quietly mesmerised by the nighttime antics of Jimmy Giggle. Note in particular, the calm, happy demeanour of your youngest child. Observe how she seems so much happier now, as she squats in front of the telly.

16. Abandon the cleaning of the kitchen to change the most horrific dirty nappy ever known to motherhood. Avert your nostrils from the combined aromas of fish and well...you know. Do not sigh, not matter how tempted you may be. The extra intake of air might kill you.

17. Do not congratulate yourself on surviving this meal. Do not even give yourself the smallest pat on the back for having cared for your child in her illness. Despite the fact that you managed to get a sick toddler to eat, nay, enjoy some proper food, there is one small but important fact remaining. Today's fish mornay is tomorrow's dirty nappy. Sigh.