Big whine now, and some minor crying "prmospola"
More whining, more crying, slight hysteria "portugpos"
You want to go to Portugal?
"NOOOOO!" Major crying now "topsicals"
You want Tutzy-girl? (our cat)
I realise I'm not being helpful so I lift the little fella onto my lap and ask him to calm down and tell me in a non-whining voice what it is he actually wants. He sniffs and rubs his eyes.
Okay love. I have no idea what you are saying. Can you show me?
Wriggles off my lap, crying again and really whines "Plobsticas in the fwidge"
Okay, now I'm getting somewhere. Show me where in the fridge.
He opens the freezer and points to a fluorescent green icy-pop. "Propsticals!"
Ahhhhh, popsicles. No, you can't have one till after your breakfast.
Total whiny, crying meltdown ensues till I serve him his breakfast.
Danny looks on, chewing bits of banana and wondering what all the malarkey is about.
Where on earth did all THAT come from? He must have dreamt of popsicles!
And now, after 30 posts ...
Now that it's over I'm going to hide for a few days. I'll be back after Craig's 40th birthday, when I'll have a hangover and he'll hopefully have a bambi.