Wednesday, 20 January 2010

Rabbits, meals and pots

Peter Rabbit – soft and cuddly though he may be – is having to get used to the fact that he's a rabbit. Rabbits come way down the pecking order in the food chain and George (whether it's in our DNA or not, I'm not sure) seems to know exactly how to put Peter in his place – and that's not in a hutch.

No, every time Peter pops up he gets a quick cuddle – a sort of "I'm sorry I have to do this" cuddle – before he is thrown to the ground and run over with the walker. The only difference between Peter and the pancake-shaped rabbits on the road is that Peter endures this fate over and over again.

There has been a bit of a debate going on as to who gets in more of a mess at dinner time – daddy or George. Obviously, it's George, who manages to get in this state at most meal times...

Daddy only lets himself down on the evenings spaghetti bolognese is on the menu.

Of all the toys George has been given for Christmas and over the past seven (almost eight) months, his eyes light up most when he sees his stacking pots – £1.99 from Morrisons. It doesn't seem to matter what he's up to, once he spots them he'll almost hyperventilate until he's banging them together or against the next nearest object (usually mummy or daddy). The trickiest part is trying to build them into a tower before he's noticed.

It was after lunch one day that daddy got the pots out and had just built his tower before George leaned across the fire engine and knocked it down. Moments later George did one of those burps – you know the ones, the ones when you just know the noise is a precursor to a little regurgitation – and daddy, quick as a flash, put a pot under George's chin and caught all the gubbins. Hooray!

The thing with these little pots is that they all have small holes in so you can play with them in the bath – and from the bottom of pot number five came five warm dribbles into the palm of daddy's clean hand. Nice.

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