Julie Jay: We have started on the solids, and have the Jackson Pollock walls to prove it

This week, armed with a bib and a spoon, I faced off against a tiny food critic who, until now, believed the height of culinary sophistication was a warmed-up bottle of milk. JJ is officially on the solids, and I have the carrot-purée stained walls to prove it. Of course, watching our baby thrive is a privilege, but I can’t say I’m not having a heart attack every time he swallows some baby rice. Over the next few weeks, there will be some serious croí sa bhéal moments as our six-month-old gets to grips with life after formula.

First on the menu is porridge — my first true love and the one constant in my life. Porridge is the romantic partner I’ve always wanted: reliable, full of heart, and has never let me down. I simply adore porridge, a fact I always remind my three-year-old, who remains less than convinced with my persistent marketing campaign to get him sold that porridge is, in fact, a completely legitimate snack.