Start of breakfast this morning with the rule that they must eat a bowl of fruit before they can help themselves to anything else.
Grumpy successfully creates the most angst, tears and tantrums possible, by selecting the fruit they must eat for them, completely disregarding any likes, dislikes and preferences.
Always fun in a crowded restaurant.
Head off to light rail this morning, with our neverending monorail pass, to avoid the land of 1000 steps and end up back at Darling Harbour for a visit to the Wildlife sanctuary.
We look at spiders, where Godzilla and Monkey Boy have an indepth discussion about allergies to arachnoids, along the lines of Monkey Boy saying “You’re gonna die if you get bitten by a spider” and Godzilla retaliating with “I know you are, but what am I?” which just confused everyone and kept the conversation going for approximately another week until I told them they would both die if they didn’t shut up. Now.
Sit and watch the bird window, while feeding Chippie discreetly on a bench, located against a wall adorned with buttons which, when you press them, you are treated to a variety of bird sounds.
The one located directly beside Chippie’s ear held the greatest fascination, and attracted every child to race over, leap on the bench beside me, push each other out of the way and press the button, which emit what could only be described as a flock of seagulls after the last remaining hot chip on earth.
The cold wind outside had obviously caused nasal mucus buildup, and the lack of being allowed to speak incessantly caused boredom. And obnoxiousness.
I catch Monkey Boy with a finger up his nose.
“Do you need a tissue?”
Subtle mummy talk for “I know you’re picking your nose, now stop it.
“Well. Stop picking your nose.”
Obviously, mummy is an idiot and can’t tell when someone is picking their nose. Particularly one of her own offspring.
“You are. Now stop it. It’s disgusting.”
“You pick your nose!” he informs everyone in the building. And those surrounding it.
But I can go one better. Never argue with your kids, its one thing I learnt. If you agree with them, it shuts them up and gives them no ammunition for future indiscretions.
“Yeah?! Well, at least I don’t EAT MY SNOT!”
That shut him up.
Back on the monorail, feed Chippie, discreetly, under muslin, in packed carriage with crazy man chatting to us.
Hotel. Restaurant. Bath. Bed.