Tag Archives: love

In the blink of an eye

Despite the numerous hospital visits over the last few weeks – think local hospital…GOSH…local eye hospital…Moorfields…local hospital….local eye hospital….local hospital – this December has been everything I’ve longed for it to be and so much more. For the first December night in a long time, it’s fast approaching midnight Friday and my evening of work is only just beginning. In the last couple of hours, I’ve knocked up a batch of img_12811M-friendly apple and pear cupcakes, a batch of G-friendly vanilla cupcakes and I’m currently struggling with the chocolate brownie sponges that are refusing to be moved from the cake tins. There’s 2 lots of icing to sort out, decorations to be finalised and they all need to be applied to the cakes themselves, but I’m delighted to find myself spending this winter evening like this.

Not only have we broken the December 3rd curse of an admission to hospital, but we’ve also beaten the steady stream of bad luck that has engulfed G’s birthdays for the last couple of years and are getting to spend the day itself at home with our most favourite young lady. Well, I say at home, but of course, the path of G’s birthday never did run quite that smooth, but it’s as close to being at home for the evening as we could wish. It’ll be a day of “work as usual” for us all and our evening plans are dominated by M’s school’s carol service, but we’re all together and that’s something that hasn’t been possible since 2013. All that being said, it does appear that we have created a new December tradition when it comes to G’s birthday and it’s a good thing img_12861that my sense of humour is very much in tact. It was with a wry smile that G and I summoned a black cab to take us to GOSH on Sunday from the train station, not for a visit to a hospital-bound younger brother, but  this time for the final YPF meeting of the year. I’m not sure that Christmas would be Christmas for me without the opportunity to wander the length of Oxford Street on the hunt for last-minute gifts and small stocking stuffers!

img_12881It feels even more special this year as my baby girl, my precious first-born, hits the start of her teen years and all the emotions that those have to bring. In the proverbial blink of an eye, my December 2003 baby is turning 13 and in front of me stands a beautiful young lady, with a little more attitude and grumpiness than I would have chosen, but with a kind heart, generous spirit and the most loyal friendship on offer that you could ask for. She is growing up fast and we are quickly losing sight of the easy-going, chatty toddler that she was as an opinionated, independence-seeking, moody teenager appears in her place. She can slam doors with the best of them and her stomping feet can make it feel as if the kitchen ceiling is about to come down at any moment – and indeed it pretty much has done. These days she brooks no nonsense from her little brother and yet she will defend him to the hilt when it comes to it and is there to comfort and hug even when he doesn’t want it. She’s looking to make sense of a world that often doesn’t and is trying to understand how to interpret the nuances when it would be so much easier if everything was clearer defined in black and white. She can be the much-needed splash of colour in a reality that is all too often dark and depressing and yet will quietly fade into the background when everything gets too intense and too much. She is an incredible blessing to all our lives and we are all so grateful to be celebrating a life that is so much better for the 13 years she’s been an integral part of it.

Happy 13th darling G, we love you so very, very much xxx

Indescribable fear

b6e83c2b62a1e0ec0cd3fbc189efbc94When I wrote this blog last week, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever sat down to write. Life has a way of throwing a curveball when you least expect it and these last 2 weeks have been no exception. My words captured my emotions at their most raw, at their most honest, when the fear of what could be had me tightly in its grip.

In November I wrote a blog all about World Diabetes Day 2016 that contained these words:

The 18 years since that fateful day have been filled with… the ever-present nagging fear that despite the continuing ability of my right eye to confound the experts by being startlingly healthy in comparison, things could change without warning at any moment…”

not realising that that moment would come so much quicker than any of us expected. Before Diabetes awareness month had finished, I went for my annual retinal screening at the local eye hospital and was given the devastating news that my right eye is showing the early signs of diabetic retinopathy. I was told that there is no choice. That I have to have laser surgery as soon as possible. Before Christmas. The last few days have been full of unending tears and constant fears about what this could mean for my sight and not just my future, but the future of our family’s life together.

The good news is that the retinopathy has been caught early, far earlier than that in my left eye 18 years ago and the consultant is confident that the amount of laser burns I will need should leave me with enough vision to still be able to safely drive my car. He listened to my concerns that the same complications could occur again and told me that technology and the equipment used has come on a long way and that the treatment is a lot more gentle than it was then.

The truth is that I’ve a lot to be grateful for this time round, but that doesn’t stop the fears that have haunted every night’s sleep since that appointment.

The fear that I might never be able to read or write without aids.

The fear that adventures to new places will be restricted to the things I can hear and smell and that I will no longer be able to fully appreciate the beauty of the world surrounding me.

The fear that I will lose so much of the independence that we all take for granted and will become dependent on those who surround me.

The fear that there will ultimately be an unfair role reversal and my children will feel a responsibility to look after me that they should never have to feel, ever.

The fear that I might not be able to clearly see my beautiful children’s faces ever again.

Nearly 2 weeks on and the fears have been joined by their eager and willing bedfellows, confusion and doubt.

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Unable to trust fully the opinion of our local eye hospital who did, after all, make such a dreadful mistake 18 years ago and left me dependent on the ongoing health of my right eye, Mike and I took the decision to go to Moorfields Eye Hospital, London for a second opinion. I needed to be sure; to be certain that this time the advice I’d been given was right and to have the confidence in the doctor who would treat my eye. That’s what we expected to get, but instead I’ve been left confounded by the outcome of that appointment, almost as much as I was stunned by the appointment at our local the previous week. Last Wednesday, this consultant said that he could see no signs of diabetic retinopathy in my right eye. None. At. All. He could not identify anything that would cause him to support the suggestion of my local hospital that I had urgent laser surgery and would, in fact, suggest that, given my past experience and subsequent loss of sight in my left eye, no treatment be given at the moment. He could not justify even considering it as an option.

Which left me feeling absolutely bewildered. Two top eye hospitals; two specialist doctors; and two very different opinions. I wanted to be pleased by the new diagnosis, but those fears had taken a hold and weren’t willing to let me go without a fight.

So yesterday I was back at our local eye hospital, seeing my named consultant, who is considered to be one of the top ophthalmologists in the field of diabetic retinopathy. This is a specialist who knows me, saw me safely through 2 pregnancies and carried out my cataract operation 8 years ago. I can’t lie. My confidence in our local hospital is at an all-time low and I dread to think what the outcome might have been if we hadn’t decided to seek a second opinion before the surgery took place. The outcome was the very best that I could hope for. She completely concurred with her Moorfields colleague and said that laser surgery is the very last thing I need right now. She acknowledged that our trust in our local hospital will be at rock-bottom and knows she has to do a lot to rebuild our faith in them. From this point on, she has insisted that I will only see her for my future appointments and has given me free access to her via her secretary whenever I need it.

The last 2 weeks have been a terrifying rollercoaster ride that we were unable to escape until we reached the end. We have been supported by our fantastic families and an amazing group of friends who have offered love, prayers and help every step of the way. That help has enabled us to protect the children from the turmoil and kept our fears from impacting on them.

I am hoping beyond hope that those fears will never be realised, but only time will tell.

From all angles

The last few months have been busy ones in all areas of our life, which I haven’t been shy in talking about, but the one aspect that I haven’t mentioned for quite some time is where we are health-wise with M’s EGID. You could view the reason for the radio silence as a good one – we haven’t really been making any significant progress and everyday continues to be a battle to see if we can reach and maintain some semblance of status quo for a decent length of time. I’ll be honest, since March things have been quite challenging as we have had little medical support and we have felt, at times, as if we’ve been cut loose and are paddling desperately to make some headway by ourselves. The reason for the missing input is that we are in the process of trying to build a shared care relationship between GOSH and our local hospital once again and at long last do appear to be making bmd6e7zcyaef7disome progress, albeit very slowly. We last saw M’s GOSH consultant in the middle of March, when it was somewhat reluctantly agreed by us that we would wait until November for his next GOSH appointment with the plan being that we would meet and then have an appointment with our local gastro team during the interim period.

It may well come as something of a surprise that we are even considering transferring some of M’s gastro care back to our local given the  numerous problems we’ve had in the past, but this time we were encouraged by the fact that his new gastro consultant is a registrar that we got to know whilst at GOSH and someone we trust implicitly when it comes to M and his health. Dr W, who has invited us and M to be on a first-name basis with him, was instrumental in getting M admitted 2 years ago when we made the decision to move to elemental feeding and so is someone who knows something of M’s background and understands where we, as his parents, stand when it comes to treating this disease. We are also keen to gain some local support for M because, when crisis hits, it is very difficult to get any immediate care from GOSH due to the distance we live from the hospital and the inability to just pop along there for them to review his current state of health. There is a standing agreement that we can phone and discuss him with any one of his consultant’s team, but sometimes that isn’t enough to resolve the issue as quickly as we all need. supportDr W had already agreed with GOSH that he was happy to meet with us and look at the potential possibility of taking over some of M’s care during last year’s disastrous admission and he understands that there is a trust issue between us and our local hospital that he and his team will need to work hard to re-establish – something that is so critical to M’s well-being.

With a little prodding, it didn’t take too long for Dr W to give me a call and then for an initial appointment to arrive on our doormat and Mike, M and I met with them in the middle of June. At this point, M’s broken leg had unleashed an unexpected level of havoc on his body and we were struggling to manage the ever-fluctuating bowel issues as well as his increasing reluctance to drink the E028 and huge disappointment that we couldn’t undertake any food trials whilst he was so unstable. The team was great, but it really was just a conversation about what we were looking for and what they felt they could do for us. A few interesting insights and suggestions about M’s diagnosis were thrown out, but there was no opportunity to ask questions about them and now, 3 months on, our reflections have left us wondering about what the next steps will be. What didn’t come as a surprise was the question mark over whether M is truly suffering from so many genuine food allergies or rather if there is an underlying problem with his gut and/or bowels which means that he is unable to tolerate so many foods at the moment. This has been a question that has been stumping his GOSH dietician too, who has freely admitted to finding M one of her most challenging patients ever and is hoping our local will provide a fresh pair of eyes when it comes to considering how best to treat him. Dr W also expressed a concern that 20150203_082342M would eventually stop drinking the E028 altogether and stressed that we need to find a viable alternative before we reach that point. This has proved to be remarkably insightful as it is now one of the biggest issues that we have had to contend with since that June appointment, with M struggling to drink even half of the required amount and with no new foods in his diet, there are growing concerns about both his weight and his nutritional intake.

Just before our Portuguese holiday, I contacted our GOSH dietician to discuss with her the lack of progress we’ve been making with M and asking for her input as to what we should do next. The email reply I had came as something of a concern as she explained she was under the impression that all care had been moved to our local hospital and she was surprised that I was looking to have a further conversation with her. I fired off a considered response, copying in both the GOSH and local consultants, advising that whilst we had met with the local gastro team in June, we had heard absolutely nothing since and really needed some medical advice once September started, although somewhat ironically we have had our next GOSH appointment booked – September 2017! Thankfully the strong relationship we have built up with this dietician since M first went to GOSH 5 years ago meant that S was happy to step in and gave me a call just a few days into September. She was as concerned as I was about the lack of medical care being given to M at the moment and during that lengthy phone conversation, worked with me to put a plan into place for food trials over the next 4-6 weeks. She also offered to chase both Dr W and our GOSH consultant to find out what was happening regarding the transfer of M’s care and try and speed up the process to ensure that M is seen before November if at all possible. I’m not quite sure what strings she pulled, but within a week of speaking to S, Mike received a phone-call from Dr W to tell him that a plan had been agreed between the two hospitals and an appointment would soon be forthcoming. Delighted to hear that a plan would soon be put in place, Mike asked whether we could be privy to the discussion they had had, so that we too were on board with whatever next steps they were expecting to make. Another lengthy conversation later and at long last, we finally had some idea of how M’s care will be handled until the end of the year at least.

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The most critical aspect of looking after M right now is that no-one really understands what is going on with his body, his bowels and gut in particular, and there doesn’t appear to be any logical explanation why we seem to be stuck at just 5 safe foods. Add to that the added complications of the massive downturn in his health that happened as a result of his broken leg and the resulting failure to find ourselves in as good a position as we were a year ago, the medics all agree that they are more than a little stumped. So, rather than rush into more tests or a radically changed approach to his treatment, our local gastro team have booked monthly appointments for the next 3 months, where they will be assessing and observing him without getting too involved in the medical decisions. Obviously any problems that we do encounter during that time will be addressed, they won’t leave M to suffer unnecessarily, but they are leaving us to work with GOSH in terms of his food challenges and medicine tweaks. They have also recognised the need for psychological support, not just for M, but for the whole family and are proposing that we start with weekly appointments, split into fortnightly appointments for M and the alternate weeks for Mike and me. We have long argued that the diagnosis of his EGID has a huge psychological and emotional impact on M and have frequently seen the outpouring of that in the home environment. The added stress of his SATs this year is already showing at both home and at school and so I am hopeful that with these regular sessions in place and the support of us and his teacher, we will ensure he makes his way through Year 6 relatively unscathed. With this kind of all-encompassing care in place and the availability of local support for any admissions or longer term treatment changes that might be needed, the strain on the family will hopefully be reduced a little too, although it will obviously never fully disappear. We don’t know what the future holds for M and that is the most daunting thing we have to face as a family. What is encouraging is that there is already an open dialogue between some of the many people involved in M’s day-to-day care and our hope is that can only prove to be the best thing for him.

A Lifetime of Memories

Everyone grumbled. The sky was grey.
We had nothing to do and nothing to say.
We were nearing the end of a dismal day,
And there seemed to be nothing beyond,
THEN
Daddy fell into the pond!

And everyone’s face grew merry and bright,
And Timothy danced for sheer delight.
Give me the camera, quick, oh quick!
He’s crawling out of the duckweed.
Click!

Then the gardener suddenly slapped his knee,
And doubled up, shaking silently,
And the ducks all quacked as if they were daft
And it sounded as if the old drake laughed.

O, there wasn’t a thing that didn’t respond
WHEN
Daddy fell into the pond!

– Alfred Noyes

This poem will always remind me of you Dad, of that Christmas when you did fall into the pond and I asked for it to be read as part of my eulogy to you. There is a lifetime of memories to cherish, but I can’t quite believe it’s been 12 years since the last ones were made. I’ve been so busy that this year the pain has been a little easier to bear, but I’m never to busy to remember you with love and miss the time we should have been spending creating new memories. Tonight we’ll raise a quiet glass. Love you Dad xxx

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A Mini surprise for a Big birthday

At the beginning of October, I started my second new job since July after being made redundant just before the end of the summer term. This new position is a really exciting opportunity for me as I become Finance and Administration Manager for a local project and even though I never imagined myself being able to say this, I am now grateful for that redundancy as there is no way that I would have even considered applying for this post if I had still been working comfortably close to home. The biggest change has been the huge increase in my hours and I am fortunate that once again I have found an employer who has been understanding about our home situation with M and my current need to be able to work from home on a regular basis. Bearing all that in mind, you’ll understand why baking has dropped down to being a fairly low priority on my list and the presence of xxcakes or biscuits in our house has been practically non-existent. However, with Mike’s 40th birthday looming mid-month, I needed to find some time to attempt, yet again, a version of his all-time favourite dessert – Lemon Meringue Pie – that would not only keep him happy, but also allow G and M to enjoy it too.

Looking back at my blog posts from over the last few years, this isn’t the first time that I’ve tried to recreate this classic dessert, but every time something hasn’t quite gone according to plan, usually the egg-free, rice-based meringue for the topping. The discovery of both rice protein powder and rice vinegar on the on-line supermarket site, FreeFrom Market, suddenly made the prospect something more than a pipe-dream and the Friday before Mike’s birthday saw me desperately trying to whip up a batch of mini meringues, safe for all members of the family. I’ll be honest, the recipe still isn’t quite there and it’ll need some more tweaking to get my perfect meringue, but they tasted good albeit that they were a little stickier than I perhaps had in mind.

I had decided that trying to create one large pie really wasn’t going to be feasible when it came to either my few-ingredients short crust pastry or the meringue itself and so settled on baking mini pies that would be just enough for a rewarding mouthful. I converted a simple short crust pastry recipe to suit M’s allergy needs and, with a few adjustments along the way, managed to produce some fantastic pastry cases which, much to my surprise, baked beautifully and maintained their shape as they cooled. I had already decided to replace the lemon filling with generous spoonfuls of my M-friendly lemon curd and popped the filled tarts into the fridge to allow the curd to set before adding the final touches. As soon as the mini pies were chilled, set and ready to eat, I dropped img_12221a single mini meringue on to the top of each one before serving to my eager husband and child. I will add at this point that neither G or I partook in this particular delicacy – the sharpness of the lemon didn’t appeal to G and the sweetness of the meringue doesn’t agree with me and my T1D tastes. However, despite the fact that only 50% of the family chose to eat these birthday treats, they were extremely well-received and I am reliably informed by both the men in my life that the lemon zest in the pastry when combined with the sharp lemon and sweet meringue was a taste sensation they very much enjoyed.

The many faces of friendship

Good friends have become a valuable commodity for our family over the years, something I have written about before and no doubt will write about again, but a few events over the last couple of months have made me realise yet again just how important these friendships are to us. In each case, the thoughtfulness of those friends turned what could easily have been difficult experiences into ones that were a little less stressful, something I always appreciate, but most of all at the moment as we deal with new school years, new medical teams and new jobs. Some of these are old friends, people I’ve known since my own school days who still play an important role in our lives, whilst others are those we’ve got to know as G and M build their own relationships with their classmates, but it doesn’t matter how long we’ve known them, they’ve been there to make a difference when it mattered.developing-friendship-machines-working-word-building-up-concept-construction-black-alphabetic-letters-forming-isolated-31326540

The first event was one of the most stressful I’ve had in a long time and even with this wonderful friend stepping in to help out, it was an experience I would have much preferred to do without. My Mum was away enjoying the wonders of Russia, Mike’s parents had flown home to Canada and Mike was back at his work, which is over an hour away from home even when the trains are running in his favour. For once I hadn’t left leaving work to pick up the children from school to the last possible minute and everything seemed to be under control, so naturally that was the point when everything suddenly went horribly wrong. My car wouldn’t start. Not only would it not start, but even with the engine turned off, the electrics seemed to have a mind of their own and the ignition refused to release my key. Even on the best of days this wouldn’t have been a good thing, but poor G had already had to disappear to the school library for an extra hour after school and I was now left with the dilemma of how to get home and get both kids without a car. Thank goodness for a good friend in our village, in the shape of the Mum of one of G’s friends, who kindly agreed to pick up M from his school, send her daughter to rescue G from their school and hold on to them both until either Mike or I was able to take them home. Her calm acceptance of the situation worked wonders on my frazzled nerves – I had by this point already phoned Mike in tears to tell him that not only had my car broken down, but that I was close to breaking down too – and reassured me that there was no need to panic as all I needed to do was get myself safely home. A couple of hours later I’d been rescued by our local garage and I rescued this friend from having to put up with my excitable duo for too much longer. It probably didn’t seem like much to her, I know it’s something I’ve more than willingly done for other Mums in the past, but it really did make a car-wont-start-186299740-e1431698432132bad situation a whole lot better and helped dampen my panic down to just concerns about how exactly we would manage without a car at all, given we’ve become a 1 car family over the last 6 months (and yes, I can be something of a “glass half empty” person at times and this was definitely one of them). Fortunately, the problem was nothing more than a flat battery and within 24 hours, it had been replaced and normal service had been resumed.

Fast forward a few days to when one of M’s friends brought a smile to his face with a small gesture that made the world of difference to my currently very sensitive lad. As I’ve mentioned recently, M has a well-stocked swap box in the classroom to ensure that he never has to miss out when his classmates bring sweets or treats into school to celebrate their birthdays. M has
become accustomed to swapping out the sweets for a non-edible treat of his choice, but I know that he misses the days when he used to be able to join in just like his friends and could eat a far wider range of foods. He had already brought home a number of Hero Attack trading cards for other birthdays, but I was met at the gate last week by a small boy hqdefaultwith the biggest smile on his face. This good friend and his thoughtful Mum had remembered that M can safely eat Foxes Glacier mints and so had taken a handful of those in for M, whilst the rest of the class enjoyed another brand of sweets. M was thrilled about being treated just like everyone else, his teacher was pleasantly surprised by this thoughtfulness and I was touched by this small step to include him in the thrill of the celebration.

Finally, we come to a recent Sunday afternoon spent with old friends and their family enjoying the chance to chat, play and share a meal. This is a friendship that has lasted over 25 years and which made them an obvious choice when we were choosing G’s godparents nearly 13 years ago. We arrived early afternoon allowing the children plenty of time to hang out and play together, whilst the adults enjoyed some much-needed catching up of their own. We talked about recent job changes, secondary school decisions and summer holidays as well as the ongoing saga of M’s health and hospital care; and before we knew it, dinner time had arrived. To our surprise, and M’s absolute delight, this wonderful couple had decided to cook a dinner that was completely M-friendly for us all and so we sat down to enjoy chicken kebabs, chicken goujons, rice, cucumber and some delicious applesauce together. friends-meal-jpgM felt a part of the proceedings in a way that was fantastic to see and when pudding arrived on the table – a safe baked rice pudding with more lashings of the applesauce – he was beyond ecstatic. That simple show of solidarity with our boy was amazing to see and whilst they didn’t think twice about doing it, was a thoughtful gesture that made an impact on us all. M didn’t feel that he was missing out on anything the others was eating and it perhaps gave them a small insight into what he lives with everyday.

As you can see, friendship has many faces and each of them, in their own particular way, makes a difference. I don’t think any one of those individuals thought they were doing anything out of the ordinary or extreme, but without those gestures our life would be far more challenging and a lot less fulfilling and colourful than it is.

Life’s never dull

I had today’s blog post planned and then this happened:

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Cue: reams of paper towels to stem the bleeding; a frantic phone-call to get M safely to school with a friend; miles driven between home, GP surgery, local Minor Injuries Unit and local hospital; and bucket-loads of tears and the occasional hysterics as anaesthetic was injected to numb her finger.

Result: no stitches for the time being despite being told 3 were needed originally, a well steri-stripped middle finger, a buddy strap to keep it straight for a couple of days and a much-needed day off school for when emotions eventually catch up with her.

Life’s certainly never dull in our household!

Portugal Photo Round-up 2016

Our 10 days in Portugal were wonderful and just what we all needed. We had great fun, lots of sunshine, delicious food, family time and a chance to get a break from all that’s been going on at home. It’s been a busy few days, so these are just a few photos to share that capture our fabulous holiday:

Summer Bakes

tumblr_static_wendy2The first 3 weeks of the summer holidays were filled with clubs and camps and activities and I needed to create some M-friendly bakes that could be packed into a lunch-box or, in the case of
Over The Wall, included as a bedtime snack to share during the evening cabin chat session with the rest of his team. With M’s tally of safe foods still stuck at 5, I wanted to bake something new, something we hadn’t tried before, and where better to start than a quick search using my trusty internet search engine. There are not many recipes out there that incorporate those safe ingredients only, so I looked for some vegan and gluten-free suggestions and decided to do the rest of the tweaking myself where necessary.

The first recipe I found was for Pear blondies, a vanilla version of the ever-popular chocolate brownie without, rather obviously, the chocolate and I was intrigued to see if this could be made for M. Using apple purée as my egg replacer, I stirred my mix and then kept my fingers crossed as the small cakes went into the oven. The smell as they baked was amazing and, as always, a certain young gentleman appeared alongside me as I pulled the final product out, ready to cool. The quantity was enough to make a dozen bitesize blondies, which were perfect as a snack during his busy days. Both children enjoyed the blondies, with IMG_0762[1]M particularly keen on the small chunks of pear that had become melt-in-the-mouth and golden as they baked in the sponge mix.

My second new baking venture were Pear and Ginger cookies, which seemed to me to be a perfect combination of sweet and spice, something I was sure M would love. This was another easy recipe to whip up, made from the staples stored in my kitchen cupboards. The dough made an impressive 18 cookies and within minutes of them hitting my cooling rack, my hopeful duo found something important to do in the kitchen in the hope they might be successful in picking up a stray biscuit as they passed. However, whilst they were tempted to taste one straight from the oven, the lure of the lemon icing to be drizzled when the cookies were finally cooled was enough to gain me around 20 minutes extra before my store started to be depleted. These were an amazingly good bake as the rice flour didn’t make the cookies taste granular at all and the ginger was subtle enough to give a little extra heat without overpowering the sweetness of the pear. The children were both big fans of this bake too and I was intrigued to see which one M would settle on as his final choice for taking to OTW camp. In the end, much as he loved both of these new treats, he decided the pear and ginger cookies would be his cabin chat snack of choice and the empty pot returning from camp was all the proof I needed that they had been a success.