Little bear was up at 6.20am, which before I had him I considered a mythical time, or a time that existed in theory but was never actually seen. Sigh. He had a blocked nose and was very unhappy. As I suspected, he is coming down with a dreadful cold. I expect it to hit on day one of half term holiday.
After being summoned by an imperious 'Mummy!' we tiptoed downstairs, and then addressed the thorny question of breakfast. 'Would you like cereal?' I ask. You would have thought I was asking him to eat poison. 'I-DO-NOT-WANT-CEREAL!' little bear said. He said it very loudly and several times. 'How about ricicles?' I asked. Little bear paused and suddenly was all interested smiles. 'What are ricicles?'
In this case, ricicles are what were delivered by Mr Asda instead of Grandad's sugar puffs, but I just provided a bowl. Little bear ate the biggest breakfast he has had for about a fortnight.
I am now thinking carefully about these matters. I have somehow to get a decent breakfast into him with the minimum of fuss. I also have to get a relatively healthy meal into him at night. I think I may explore cunning and strategy. Also a large variety of breakfast cereals.
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