Floorbiscuit

The baby didn't eat much of her Weetabix this morning. She usually has a couple of goes at it, and the Weetabix can be revitalised with some fresh milk and a quick stir, but I don't really like doing this. I am not really a breakfast person, and I find the amount of milk that a single brick of Weetabix can absorb alarming. Given enough time it thickens to a grey mulch again. Top up, stir, top up, stir, and one day I could end up with an evergrowing lump of goo overflowing the cup, colonising the tabletop, spilling onto the carpet and making for the door.

But I suppose I would have thrown it out and given her some new Weetabix long before it came to that.

But this morning she wasn't interested at all so I lifted her out of her chair and set her on the floor. She crawled around shouting, 'Duck! Duck!' which is one of her favourite words. Then she finds something and eats it.

I have no idea what it is. I only know that it is floorbiscuit. Floorbiscuit seems to be an important source of nutrients for the scavenging baby, and is composed of broken and ground up, but otherwise tasty, morsels either spilled or hidden under the furniture and in the rug. I am confident that none of the floorbiscuit in the living room is of any real vintage because we hoover regularly, but floorbiscuit from other parts of the house is suspect.

And of course, kitchen floorbiscuit gives me the horrors and must be identified and confiscated as a matter of urgency. It could even have come from under the cooker!