V for veggie

Sarah is appalled and impressed. Now she’s doing the Sainsbury’s shop online she has more time to scroll down to find what she, or let’s be honest, he, is after.

Only 8, he’s already figured out the difference between vegetarian, vegan and what’s definitely, absolutely, NOT OKAY, okay? What could there be in a dessert, a dessert for chrissake, that wouldn’t be vegetarian? Now, the little sod sits there, studying the box and declares, like he’s won a round of UNO, that, ha-ha, there it is, beef gelatin. Right there, he shouts, pointing, THERE, he cries, it’s got HOOF IN IT.

It takes him forever to get through the meal. He studies each tin, box, pouch, bottle or jar. He can’t understand why packaging either has the V for Veggie on it, or it doesn’t. Sarah doesn’t admit it, but he has a point.

She slaps a plastic tub of Ambrosia custard down in front of him. THERE, she says, pointing, VEGETARIAN.

It’s only later when he’s in bed, finally, and she’s got the TV on, tucking into his discarded Key Lime Pie, the offending article, that she realises there’s a tiny victory in it for her after all.