For the last many months, on a Sunday, as we wake too tired to think, Chippie has managed to decide the Sunday Breakfast.
So for the last many months, on a Sunday, Grumpy Pants has made pancakes for breakfast.
This morning, however, as I woke, fought myself back to sleep, and awoke again to a MUG of lukewarm coffee on my bedside table, I suggested omlette.
Grumpy is exceptional at making omlette. Very, very good.
He made Chippie’s first, because I was still grumbly and non-communicative and morningy and stuff.
Chippie grabbed his omlette-filled plate and sat at he table where he announced, quite distinctly, that he was going to eat his breakfast like a dinosaur.
In a moment of parenting partnership, Grumpy and I told him to get cutlery. As he was already seated, and getting into dinosaur mode, he was apparently quite incapable of getting himself the appropriate implements.
Which is how the conversation turned …
Chippie: If you don’t get me cutlery, I’m going to have to eat it like a dinosaur.
Grumpy: Get up and get your own cutlery. Also, I don’t think dinosaurs ate omlette.
Me: But is the omlette Paleo, because if it is, then maybe the dinosaurs did.
Chippie: I’m eating like a dinosaur.
Grumpy: Well, the eggs were a little lacking colour, so the omlettes are a bit pale-eo. Not very colourful at all.
Me: Get a fork! And T-Rex arms were too short to get food to their mouths AND to wipe their hands on their shirts!
Do you do anything special on a Sunday morning?