All aboard the milk ladder

At the end of our last appointment the dietician promised to send me details of the 'milk ladder', a procedure designed to gradually reintroduce children to dairy products, monitoring their progress as you go. But unfortunately she hasn't. It could be, given my verbal diarrhoea at our last meeting that she's simply too terrified to have any contact with me, in case I start blathering on about Amazon again. Or it could be that she's overworked and underfunded and simply forgot.

She did say that the first rung is to start him off on biscuits like Malted Milk which are highly cooked but still contain milk (Group 1 foods) We had kind of started that already, so the next step, she said, was cake and things like Scotch pancakes.

Whoops, we'd already started that too - the day before I'd taken him for a walk on the beach. He grew unexpectedly hungry and I didn't have enough corn snacks so we shared a Lemon Drizzle. So we were on Rung 2.

I also pointed out that although cake is fine, Scotch pancakes will simply end up being dribbled out or chucked on the floor. The dude does not do textures that firm. The dietician looked a bit beaten by now. She sighed and said "OK, just give him a non dairy yogurt with a spoonful of normal yogurt in, and gradually increase the amount. That should cater for his special requirements."

(Blimey, looking back on this I am still cringing! I was such an annoying mum. She must have been desperate to get rid of me by then.)

So that means our toes are now firmly on Rung Three. Weeks later, I finally found a copy of the milk ladder online (here it is if you need it yourself) and although the pdf I found applies more to children with allergies than intolerance it seems clear on one thing. You're supposed to do this slowly. You're supposed to stay on Rung One for three months!

However we reached rung three with no clear difference in terms of vomiting. He's still sicky at night as he's lying in his cot, and has days when he's sick during meals. But it doesn't seem to bear any relation to the milk he's consumed.

Still, I told myself. Best ease off for a bit, just in case. However, the other day I came back from the shops to find my other half giving LG his lunch.

"I've grated him some cheese," he told me proudly. "He loves it." LG beamed up at me, shreds of extra mature cheddar dangling from his mouth.

So forget the milk ladder, we're on the milk escalator now...