Saturday, 30 June 2012

Say Cheese

We seem to have hit another magic development window and it's really noticeable with his speech. At nineteen (almost) months old he's started to pick up new words at a quicker rate and I am beginning to wonder just how much of what I say to him he really does understand.
He's stopped saying "Gone down" quite so much now, but it still comes round pretty regularly. We had almost a week where that was all he would say about anything and it got a little wearing towards the end.
His next favourite word is "Garden", usually used to ask if he can go out and play. However, he did do something interesting last week. He looked out of an upstairs window and said "Garden gone down" which I think meant "the garden is down there". This means that he's starting to connect words together a little. This is a very early age for doing that and I am very impressed. Either that or it was just a fluke and he was shouting out his two favourite sounds.
Saying Mummy and Daddy has made a comeback at last and now I think he often means me when he says it. Ah.
At the moment he loves playing with wooden shape puzzles. He has a number puzzle with pictures that he loves and if you ask him "where's the cars?" he can point to them. He can manage most of them now except ladybirds and pencils. If you ask him to point to the ladybirds he points to the little birds elsewhere on the puzzle. It's an understandable mistake.
He can almost say "balloon" now, which is quite sweet. If you ask him to point to the balloons on the puzzle, he will and he will also often clap his hands - once and as loudly as possible. Granny has taught him that balloons go BANG! and that's all he thinks about now! Also, if you ask him what a fish does he will look at you slightly sheepishly and then will open and shut his mouth. I'm trying to teach him to do the gills with his hands and I've had a small amount of success.
Now all I have to do is train him to say "Mummy I am full, I don't want any more of the nice food that you have made for me. Thank you for making it for me, I love you." instead of just trying to throw it all over the floor.
Andy has decided that food thrown on the floor will not be returned to him, which is fine when it comes to things like biscuits, but when he's throwing things away because he doesn't want to eat them rather than in a fit of frustration it might backfire. Still, having watched enough episodes of SuperNanny I have taken more of a no nonsense attitude to meal times. If he kicks up a fuss and doesn't eat then he doesn't get anything else. If I'm feeling charitable then he'll get to try it again in a bit but no treats. I did once have to send him to bed hungry.
It makes me sound like a tough and straight down the line sort of person! I'm not at all! I was so worried when he refused that dinner and I was terrified I was doing the wrong thing! I have also discovered that if you distract him with Chuggington he eats more and it's always worth melting some cheese on the top of something he's not so sure of as he likes melted cheese.
I'm starting to wonder if there might be some American DNA in him!! (he did once eat a whole plate of loaded nachos as well)


Out of curiosity, if anyone is reading this who has children of the small kind or otherwise - at what age did you stop using bottles?
I'm not really sure when I should pack them all away for good. Joseph has two bottles now, one first thing in the morning and one mid afternoon. He has all his squash in a straw cup which he really likes as he can stand up and hold it and walk around with it. I like them because they don't spill, although sometimes they can splash. He also has a small cup of water with his meals most days now and he is doing quite well with it, although I have to maintain a strict hold of it.
We bought some spouts to convert the bottles to spout cups and we had mixed results. Joseph did use the spout cup, but would only do so lying flat on his back and he never stayed lying still long enough to drink much. In the end I resorted to giving him a drink as I changed his nappy which turned into a bit of a faff around and his liquid intake was rather dependant on how many poops he did in one day.
At this point I tried him on a straw cup and he's been much better.
I did once try and put his milk in one and it didn't really work. He probably drank a fair bit of it in the end, but most of it ended up dribbled down his front. We are long past the age where it is acceptable for him to spend the day smelling faintly of cheese and I don't fancy clearing up all that milky drool on a regular basis.
Today I tried a new approach. I put the spout and plastic handles onto the bottle as I had done before for giving him squash but I put milk into it instead. He recognised the bottle but was initially wary of the spout. I put on an episode of Chugginton and settled down with him on the sofa as a cuddle usually helps. He took a sip from the spout and looked really confused.
He drank very very slowly, only taking small sips and constantly holding the bottle away from him and looking at the spout. It took the entire ten minute episode for him to get through the bottle, as the end credits rolled there was a little left and he gave up, got up and started running around.
I'm quite happy with this, I thought he might just reject it completely. I think I'll persevere with the spouts for a while and see if he starts getting on better with just using a normal cup.
He's funny with a normal cup. He sees Andy and I using them and he seems to know the theory of how it works but in actual practice the result is not so good. Generally he ends up trying to tip the cup a little too far and ends up with far too much in his mouth and it dribbles out into his bib.  Obviously, I'm much better at controlling the cup than he is but he does not like to yield total control and wants to hang on to the cup. Obviously this is a bad idea and I have no intention of cleaning up large puddles of slightly crumby water after every meal time.
I suppose the next issue is that even once he's no longer using a teat bottle, how much milk does he still really need? He gets plenty of calcium from his diet now - he'd eat his own body weight in fromage frais given half a chance and he does like melted cheese.

Sunday, 24 June 2012

Dads, Granddads and Uncles

Every child should have the privilege of having a totally nutty and crazy father who will run up to them saying "Ooble ooble ooble!" or other such nonsense. Every child should also have the honour of having a totally mad Granddad who will spend at least an hour running round and round the garden with them, also saying strange and incomprehensible things.
There's nothing like the sheer look of delight on Josephs face than when he sees Andy doing something really really silly. Andy, it seems, will do just about anything physically possible to get Joseph to smile and making a complete idiot out of himself seems to hold no fear. Simple things work well, be they tickling the feet or rubbing your nose on Josephs belly. Even I can get him to laugh with that one although he did nearly break my nose with a flailing heel on one occasion. I'm much more careful now, I pin him down in a judo hold of sorts so that I am protected from his flapping appendages.
Joseph likes sitting on Andy shoulders and then grabbing at things he has previously been unable to reach, like light fittings. Joseph loves bath time with Daddy far more than with Mummy. I can tell this by the sheer level of noise - the thumps, bumps and tidal wave splashes that indicate fun. Also, there's a lot of giggling.
Our roles are becoming more defined. When Joseph wants fun and play he is far more likely to go to Andy if he is available. That's not to say that I don't play with him but he quite often leaves me with the impression that Daddy would have been more fun had he been there. He looks at me as if to say "I know you're trying Mum, but I'm not convinced your heart is really in this. Your embarrassment is starting to show."
I am the carer, the cuddler and soft place. I can be pushed around a bit, but I am the chief provider of food - and treats! I am the one that is run to when life becomes scary.
Alas, my poor brother has a strange effect on my son. We saw him briefly yesterday as he was passing through due to work. Last time Joseph spent any time near my brother he wasn't too happy and cried. This time, he cried again. I don't know why my brother causes this reaction. Usually when he's around someone he's not to sure of he just tends to act a bit shy. I'd say that it was the glasses, but Andy has a very similar pair. Perhaps it's the beard.
Anyway, Joseph was scared. He wanted his Mummy. Granny would not do, Granddad would not do. He wanted me and nobody else and clung to me in a similar manner as he had when I had tried to take him swimming. He'd hated swimming and had clung on so tight he left little red hand prints on my arms. I might not be the fun one, but I know where I am needed.
Anyway, when he's older he'll be the one feeling embarrassment and I'll... probably still be cleaning up his mess but I know I'll still be needed.

In other news..
We gave him a lollipop today, he'd been a good boy. He ate it without incident, but did end up rather sticky. Andy is still cleaning him up and has described the residue as quite sticky. Joseph is, in Andys words, "like a pile of glue". There is still plenty of de-sticking to do.

Wednesday, 20 June 2012

W - Sitting

This week I've been learning about a new problem I didn't even know we had.
It's called W-sitting.
Sounds a bit odd, but I shall explain. When an adult has to sit on the floor (after all the grumbles and complaints about there being no available chairs and how hard surfaces always give them pins and needles) they will generally either sit with feet and knees together tucked under them or with both legs to one side. Some of the more flexible will sit cross legged in a school assembly style.
W-sitting means extending each leg out both sides and bending the knees so from above they're making a w shape. It's quite common in children who are learning to sit and many tots will use it as a half way point from sitting to crawling. It's also very stable as it needs less muscles to hold the upright position.
That's the main problem with it. Children who w-sit a lot don't develop as good core muscles as others and it puts the wrong sort of strain on leg muscles and joints. It can lead to walking with turned in toes and flexibility issues in later life.
Joseph does this a lot. I don't think it's a stability thing for him, his balance is very good. I think it's just that he wants to play with something on the floor in front of him and doesn't want his feet to get in the way. At only eighteen months I don't think he's been doing it long enough to cause any real trouble but I'm going to start trying to persuade him out of it from now on so that we can try to avoid any possible future problems.
The problem is how. He's not that persuadable a boy, he didn't want the sauce with his pasta tonight for no obvious reason and nothing I could do would persuade him otherwise. When he wants something he really wants it and is very rarely fobbed off with something else. When he's got something he wants that you'd rather he didn't then you're in for tears and tantrums and possibly having to give him something else he really wants but also shouldn't really have as a bribe to let the first thing go. Then you  begin the cycle again.
As far as his sitting habits go, over the last two days I've been straightening out his legs and pointing them forwards whenever I see him sit wrongly. Sometimes it works and he carries on sitting in a better position and sometimes he gives me a funny look and quickly settles back into a w shape.
However, there is one ray of hope. He likes to climb on my sit-kneel chair and it on it backwards to watch Timmy Time or Chuggington. Andy pointed out this evening that it was rather effective at stopping him sitting badly. Now all I have to do is stop him using it as a climbing frame!

Sunday, 17 June 2012

You have to Laugh

I forgot to mention in my previous post that a rather amusing incident happened while we were out for lunch. It was amusing for me at least, Joseph didn't think it was at all funny.
Forgetting that he had a big bottle of squash in his bag I ordered him a pouch of Capri-Sun for a drink. I remember them from my childhood, little foil pouches that come with a straw that you're supposed to pierce through a little hole in the top. Usually the straw isn't quite sharp enough and it wont quite go through and you end up fighting with it until you eventually manage to puncture not only through the little plastic covered hole but right through and out the other side of the pouch. By this point the whole thing has got rather mangled and squashed and the juice leaks out and more of it ends up on your clothes and on the floor than actually in your mouth.
They've changed them now. The annoyingly unpierceable hole is gone as is the silly too-small straw and they now have a little nozzle on the top which is covered by a small plastic cap. This is a good idea, if you don't want the whole thing you can re-seal it and save it for later.
It's not so good if you're eighteen months old. He kept making a grab for the cap which was just the right size to be a very effective choking hazard. He would put the open nozzle in his mouth but couldn't seem to work out how to suck on it which I found odd as he manages using a straw quite well.
Eventually he pulled it out of his mouth and gave it quite a puzzled look. Perhaps it was frustration or perhaps it was just curiosity but at this point he gave the pack a sudden and unexpected squeeze.
Juice shot out. It went all over his face and his t-shirt and his trousers. He cried as any child will who has just got tropical juice in both eyes. I did my best with all the available napkins, but he was damp and sticky and there was not a lot I could do about that.

That was Friday. On Saturday we decided to go out for a meal with my parents to celebrate (in order):- Fathers Day; Andys birthday; My parents Wedding Anniversary and my Dads birthday. I think that's all, but I may have forgotten something.
We went to The Tamarind Tree in Basildon where the service was excellent and they were really falling over themselves to keep us and Joseph in particular happy. The food was sublime, the best curry I have eaten for a very very long time.  I very much recommend it.

Saturday, 16 June 2012

Tears and Tantrums

I'm wondering what happened to my sweet and well behaved little boy. Someone seems to have spirited him away overnight and replaced him with a rather grumpy little chap. He's only eighteen months old so how can he be in the terrible twos already?
Now, if Joseph's been good at anything, it's been eating. Sometimes you have to chop it up a bit and sometimes you don't, but you can be almost guaranteed that he will eat what's put in front of him. Now, this has all changed. I give you case study - minced beef and onions. Oh how he's loved eating that, the piquancy of the fried onion, the depths of flavour in the mince. He'll even eat mushroom cooked in with it, he seems to enjoy the change in texture.
Not this week, oh boy, oh no.
It was freshly made and I made sure I checked the temperature before serving. Alas it did not meet with his approval and less than one bite was swallowed, the rest being either spat out or knocked from the spoon before it could reach his mouth. Annoyingly, he did eat the left-over roast potatoes I served with it. Perhaps in his small boy mind they were just really really big chips.
Would you know, but the following day was his day with Granny and I sent him with a pot of the same mince, now resigned as leftovers and a smidgeon of mashed potato left from our dinner of sausages, mash and beans. He ate it! He ate it all! Perhaps his Granny has something I don't, some extra level of persuasiveness. Or, what is more likely, he was just being contrary.
He's also decided that whilst he understands the word "no" he doesn't have to obey it if he doesn't really feel like it. He respects what it means, but does not feel that it need apply to him on every occasion. I now have the new terror of him climbing up on one of the smart black storage cubes so placed to keep him away from our gas fire, so he can reach the ornamental glassware on the shelf above - or the tissues. You can shout NO till you're hoarse, you can jump up and down waving your arms and scream till you're purple, it will do no good. All that is left is to go and bodily pick him up before he destroys the tall decorated glass I was given for being a friends bridesmaid. Then he screams and makes me feel like the bad guy.
We went out yesterday. I had to buy my lovely husband a birthday present and I wanted to buy Joseph a mack as the British summer is living up to its usual bracing reputation. He was pretty good in the shops but the restaurant was a different matter. So many places don't leave quite enough room for wheeled contrivances, be they buggy or some form of invalid vehicle. It was a right royal faff to get to the table and even more of a faff to get seated. Finally when this monster manoeuvre was complete and not before, I was told the fryer was broken so no chips.
No chips?
I have a small boy in tow! I am a tired shopper! Do I look like someone who will not mind "no chips"?
I was too tired to mind. It had taken me more than ten minutes to get settled and I could not be bothered to do it all again somewhere else. I had a chicken burger and (grrrr) a salad and Joseph had loaded nachos, which he liked as long as he wasn't throwing them on the floor. There were a few comments from the next door table. They were either a bit thick or didn't care that I could hear but I gathered that their opinion was that Joseph was cute but annoyingly noisy and it was my fault and should I really be feeding a small child on junk?
He was annoyed because the service was slow and he was sat in his high chair for a long time waiting for his pudding to come with nothing to do but try and dip crayons into the leftover soured cream that came with the Nachos. As for junk, the kids menu was all chips chips chips with one salad which I know he wouldn't eat. That left Nachos and he did eat one of the carrot dippers that came with them.
He did eat all of the pudding, by the way, it was chocolate brownies with ice cream. What young lad, even in the midst of a naughty patch would reject that?
I spent the whole meal wishing I'd gone with my first instinct of going to Nandos - but I did not as I'd be totally unable to order any food without leaving my small child totally unattended for a significant period of time. Nandos, you discriminate against anyone who happens to be out on their own with a small child. Mind you, when he cries he ends up covered in snot and I doubt anyone would want to kidnap that.

Monday, 11 June 2012

The Rain - and it's consequences

No exploits in the garden today. It's been raining pretty much constantly and there are flood warnings in the news. I wouldn't want my son to get all cold and wet!
I did go to the supermarket. Monday is weekly shop day and off I pop with my list of necessary items, wondering what I'll manage to forget this week (bananas, by the way). Joseph likes the supermarket, there are things to grab, shelves to pat and special offer notices that can be pulled off and played with. Today he really wanted the 2 for £5 frozen chicken sign.
There was also another little boy that he spent several minutes smiling at. The child in question was younger than Joseph and got very excited to see him. Whilst Joseph sat there coyly smiling and chuckling, the other child was rocking backwards and forwards and shouting "Da! Da!" at the top of his little voice.
Joseph had been unconcerned at the fact that the trolley seat was wet. They were all wet, every single trolley I could see and I had worried about not having anything to wipe it dry with, but no harm was done. I guess he's just used to a sensation of dampness around the rear end.
What bothered me more were his shoes. I bought them a long time ago, a well-known childrens retailer had a sale on, all the little shoes were heavily discounted and were buy one get one free, so I decided to stock up and got enough trainers to last him to two and a half at least.
This particular set have "aeration holes" in the soles. I hadn't noticed at the time or I might have selected a different pair. Now, according to the pseudo-scientific label, better air flow leads to more comfortable feet or something similar. That's all well and good if the holes are in the top, but in the sole?
All that happens is capillary action and if my son walks across damp pavement or steps in a puddle then he gets wet feet. Anyway, in hot weather when I feel he needs aerated feet then I will put him in one of the pairs of cute sandals I bought him during a similar sale at the same retailer a month ago. When I want him to wear trainers then I am assuming I'm going to want to keep his feet warm and dry.
Joseph has spent most of the day getting annoyed at me. He wants to go and play in the garden with his new ball. I'd let him, but for the cold, the wet and the mud. Alas now he has gone rather stir-crzay and I am at the end of my rather worn out patience. I even tried to interest him in a cringe-worthy Disney film which left me feeling all sucrosed up to the eyeballs. He didn't like it much either, so much for that. If it's just as bad tomorrow then I think I might start going a little mental.
Own up now, who of you shouted "Start?" in a supercilious tone?
By the way, any guesses on what "Go gah" can mean? He's been saying it a lot over the past few days and it seems to apply to everything from dropped food to a big fat pigeon sat out in the garden.

Sunday, 10 June 2012


You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink.
Similarly, you can take Joseph to a swimming pool but you can't persuade him that swimming is, in any way shape or form - fun.
You can't even lay him down in the bath, he just screams. You can sit him up and he will just about tolerate water being poured on his head to wash his hair, but that's about it. Baths are tolerable, but anything else is not. Andy even suggested we get him a paddling pool, but I pointed out that this would be a total waste of money as he doesn't like cold water.
You can imagine my surprise yesterday, when he proved me wrong. We have been tidying up our garden in an effort to get our house ready to sell. It seems to be one of those things where everything we do to the house seems to prompt even more things needing doing and it's all taking forever and if we sell this place before Joseph is 10 I'll be jolly surprised.
Still, the garden isn't looking half bad. We've done some weeding, got rid of pretty much all of the rubbish and moved my climbing rose so I can tie to to the trellis so it looks less stupid.
By the way, if anyone wants a hutch, please come and take ours. All it has in it now is some soil and the ghosts of about five Chinese painted quail. With a little cleaning out it would be good for guinea pigs or even a small rabbit. You'd be doing us a favour, taking it off our hands.
I've even put more stinky crystals on the lawn to keep the cat off. They seem to be working for the moment.
What with the recent rain, we haven't needed to top up our little water feature. It's basically a rock with a hole we drilled through it connected to a small fountain. It bubbles and looks pretty and we haven't turned it on in a while. I was surprised it was working, and even more so that the water hadn't gone black and slimy. I guess that will be all the fresh rain water.
Joseph liked the fountain. Joseph was very interested in the fountain. Joseph tried to play in the water and poke stones down the hole. Thankfully, it's slate pieces and they're all too big, but it didn't stop him trying.
Joseph ended up sat down next to the water feature, playing in the water. Now, yesterday was a sunny day but it wasn't exactly warm. The water coming up out of the water feature had a "cool mountain spring" edge to it - it was really very cold. Yet still he played in the water and it soaked up round his ankles and up his legs, his top got wet and it seeped into his nappy. Only the insides of his little welly boots were dry.
Andy tried to bring him in at about 5.30pm but he didn't want to come. I said to leave him for a bit more, after all, dinner wasn't until six. In the end he came in not long later as Andy decided the little fellow needed a bath before dinner time, what with him being soaking wet with cold water and covered in dirt. While Andy ran the bath, I stripped Joseph off on the back step and then let him run around in the living room with a towel wrapped round him. He didn't want to keep it there.
After playing in warm water for a bit he ate his dinner, a little reluctantly, left us a huge stinky offering in his nappy and went to bed.

Wednesday, 6 June 2012


It's a funny thing, bringing up a child. So much of what I do seems to be to fight against his natural instincts, to layer up some measure of civilisation over the savage, rather like the laminate layer of real wood over chip board. Underneath, it's still a mess.
Perhaps a kinder metaphor would be like layering polish onto an untreated wooden surface, eventually the dull surface will shine. I'm not totally convinced.
Joseph is mastering, or at least trying to master, the fork. Most of the time I have to put the food on the fork and then he will get hold of the fork, put the food in his mouth and hopefully eat it. It doesn't always work.
Sometimes he just gets bored. Why mess around with this thing with the points on it? It's still so much quicker just to pick it up and stuff it in there. Hunger wins and that veneer of culture might just as well be the piece of cling film I have ripped off from over the re-heated leftovers that make up lunch and thrown in the bin.
Other times, like today, he seems to like the idea of doing it properly, even if he's not sure why. Today he had boiled potato chunks to play with whilst I shovelled beef mince and onions in on a spoon. He could actually get some of the potato onto the fork and even into his mouth, but this, I think, was more by accident than by design. The problem being that the potato moved and needed to be chased around the tray, or steadied by something.
That was his idea. Why run the risk of the potato crumbling to bits or escaping when it's quite easy to pick the potato up with the right hand, hold the fork in the left and skewer the potato that way? It's a quick way to get it on the fork and I can't stop him because, after all, he's doing it properly.
He looked up at me, part way through, with a look that simply said "Remind me Mother, what's the point of all thing again?"
I couldn't answer and he ended up using the fork to bash the potato into smaller chunks that he picked up with his fingers and ate. All the beef mince went, there are some foods he is not remotely fussy about.
Whilst I was tidying up, I gave him three strawberries to play with. Joseph like strawberries, and I could tell this by their sudden absence and red juice dribbling down his chin. I could also tell this by the fact he had shoved them in whole and was trying not to lose any more juice by sucking in as hard as he could, making a noise like someone trying to reach the last little bit of thick milkshake in the bottom of a glass with too thin a straw.
I think that veneer of civilisation and culture that all children need to cope in the real world - it's a long way off yet. After all, I've not even started potty training yet.

Saturday, 2 June 2012

Jubilee - it's a cake thing

If you're going to celebrate a royal occasion, be it a wedding, a birth or a jubilee then whatever you do, it has to involve cake. For the royal wedding last year I made patriotic flap jack, but this weekend it was all cup cakes.
Joseph was rather unmoved by the whole thing, but seemed quite happy to be strapped into the back of our new car and be taken to Grandmas and Grandpas house. He likes going there, there's a big garden to run around with and toys to play with and two more people to wrap round his chubby little fingers.
We had a barbecue and Joseph mangled a sausage bun, ate some chicken and some burger and choked on some lemonade that I put in his straw cup. I think it was the bubbles, he's just not used to them.
We had bunting up of course, it was left over from the royal wedding last year as indeed were the napkins. Waste not want not! I also made some paper chains and with all that up in the garden we looked sufficiently patriotic. At least no silly hats were involved.
Now, having eaten our way through a garlic stuffed mackerel each, two sausages, a burger and a chicken kebab we prepared ourselves for the most important part of the day.
The cake, oh yes indeed. Had I actually managed to persuade anyone outside of immediate family to come I would have made a big sponge, but everyone was busy or couldn't be faffed to respond. Nil desperandum, the party was changed from Tuesday (now threatening to be a wet day) to today (which was nice and dry) and we had funky cup cakes instead.
Now, when I say we had cup cakes, I'm sure some will be thinking of the dull pallid little things that you find on a sad looking supermarket shelf that taste dry and have lurid but sickly icing. Oh no, such a thing would not do for this occasion. Indeed, all of yesterday I was busy in the baking. All right, not all of yesterday but for a good hour in the afternoon and it wiped me right out as I appear to be suffering quite badly with a viral throat infection.
There were strawberry, white chocolate and vanilla, lemon and proper chocolate flavour. I made six of each and that meant the fun prospect of a good four cakes each plus spares. We'd even managed to find some patriotic cup cake cases and a patriotic cup cake stand. Lovely!
This morning I was mixing and piping icing, artfully placing chinks of strawberry and orange and lemon slice. I was also making little flowers out of marzipan. There would have been some fondant flowers too, but the piece I had had left over from a previous cake had gone rock hard and was no good. There were sprinkles and there was edible glitter. I don't do things by halves, if I'm going to bake and ice a cake it has to be something quite spectacular.
Ah, the cakes! Joseph had eaten of the barbecued meat very well, but he seemed keen when the cakes arrived. Oh my treacherous stomach! I had only managed a strawberry cake and a chocolate and it was telling me that I was full! I tried in vain to eat a lemon cake but I could not do it. I had to share it with Joseph and he was flagging. At one point, whilst playing with a bit, he decided to pat himself on the head and got a great big icing-y hand print on the top of his head. It's a good job my Mums garden isn't full of wasps.
He did eat a whole white chocolate and vanilla cake. There's nothing like the sight of a little boy with his cheeks bulging totally stuffed and creaking at the seams with cake. There was some threatening to make its way back out of his mouth, but he was determined to finish it. As we shared a lemon cake between us I half expected to see yellow icing come squirting back out of his ears and nose!
You'd think it would stop him, or at least slow him down. You'd think that, but you'd be wrong.
No indeed, despite being weighed down by quite a bit of meat and an industrial quantity of cake, as soon as he was free he was running around and he didn't stop till we got home and put him to bed.
I felt full like a python, it felt as if my belly was distended to a gross degree and I wanted to sleep for three days to digest it all!
On second thoughts, the weariness might have been as a result of three glasses of pimms - something else that's a must for a royal occasion! Anyway, something with that much fruit in it must be healthy!