The Aristocats. He pours the milk into a bowl, adds a sprinkle of cinnamon, a dash of vanilla extract, a smidgen of sugar and a dollop of double cream, then he blasts it in the microwave. On a few occasions he placed the bowl on the floor and lapped it with his tongue, but realising it's an inefficient way for a human to consume their vittles, he went back to the more traditional method. Once, perhaps inspired by the relish with which the cartoon cats dinned on the concoction, he made a large portion up for our dog Pippi. She tried it, but didn't like it and I poured it away explaining that dogs don't like milk, just people and cats. "And cows," said he.
Lady's friend from next door has been to stay with us for a few nights. The girls enjoyed spending lots of time together, with late night chats and lots of time spend enjoying such pre-teen delights as the Jonas Brothers and HSM (if you don't know the acronymn, you'll not care) on YouTube.
Best of all, Lady went with her friend to a school disco on Friday evening. The pair got all dolled up, Lady wearing a bit too much silvery eye shadow, so it fell under her eyes, panda fashion. A quick wipe sorted her out and off they went to face the music. I was told afterwards, that 3 boys had asked my 10 year old child to dance. Oh my. Is this the beginning of a new phase? Will I know how to strike a balance between allowing her freedom to have fun, make new friends and enjoy her journey towards adulthood with protecting and sheltering her and teaching her to make safe choices. Ah well, she's still very young. I'll just take it as it comes.
Thomas was a bit put out that he wasn't able to go dancing too. He rocks the joint when he's dancing in his room, not that he knows I've seen him. He asked "why do the girls get to go to the ball, and I don't?" So endearing! My sister pointed out the Harry Potter connection; school balls instead of discos. To make it up to him, I took him to the soft play area this afternoon and he ran himself ragged while I supped tea and read, so different from when Duncan's there too. Duncan whiled the afternoon away by lounging in the bath (the boy has at least one a day) and checking out cuckoo clocks on ebay. He's got his eye on one that costs over £200. I bid on a couple but didn't go quite high enough so I still have to get one from somewhere before Christmas. And he's very particular about what it must look like and how it must perform. Bum. At least I won a Lego Spiderman so perhaps that'll distract from any potential clock deficit.