Us, goofing around at home after her second day in prep. Two days of doing the school run and agonizing over what to pack in her lunch box and I was beat.

It did get easier for me, though. After a month I wasn’t as pedantic about her lunch anymore. I approached it in a rather practical way: Pack food that she would actually eat and would be easy for her to eat. I’ll make up for it after school when she gets home. I mean, I could be julienning carrots and cucumbers all morning but if she’s not gonna eat it, she’s not gonna eat it and that’s that.

I baked some banana cupcakes once or twice for her, though. She loved it. It pleased me that she wanted it again for the next day so I reckon I’m slowly improving as a mum in terms of culinary skills. It’s no MasterChef but it’s a start.

One time, inspired by the advice of a Chinese mom I work with, I decided to cook fried rice for her in the morning. Put it in one of those thermal containers that’s supposed to keep food nice and warm for hours. Thought it would be nice for her to have a break from her usual eggy sandwich.

“How did you go with your lunch, langging?” I asked her once we were at home, expecting a positive feedback.

“It was hard for me to eat because I didn’t have a spoon,” she replied.

“What do you mean?” I asked, baffled. I was 100% sure I put cutlery in her bag, too. I gave her specific instructions at breakfast. “So how did you eat it?”

“With my hands!” she cried. Her cute face crumpled with sadness as if she was about to cry it was hard not to feel sorry for her.

Until now, I still wonder what happened to her spoon and fork. Like a lot of mysterious things in life, it’s one of those I guess I will never know.

*Raven at 5 years old