Where's My Toga?

I’m starting to feel like a Roman slave girl.  With Alex just getting over being sick, Nathan has started to come down with it.  Which means neither of them have much of an appetite.

I’ve been trying to tempt them with some of their favourites and their lack of enthusiasm has meant I’ve ended up having to feed them myself.  It’s not unusual with Alex, who has an extreme aversion to most food at the best of times.  But the last time I had to feed Nathan by hand was when he was sitting in a high chair.

But Mr. Nathan spent his lunch hour lying in my lap enjoying a serving of yoghurt and then a bowl of bits of bite-sized fruit, all fed to him by hand.  By my hand to be precise.  Lying back on his ease, watching some Wiggles and periodically opening his mouth so I could poke in a strawberry or blueberry.  He even had the patrician head tilt exactly right so I could place the fruit on his tongue without blocking the TV.  It was so funny I couldn't help but laugh, which jiggled him and earned me an irritated look.

All that was missing was the Mediterranean weather, some mosaics and appropriate costumes.  But at least he’s got some good food in his belly to help him feel better.