Lucky

Lucky Charlie to have a patient mother (for the most part). Lucky me for having such supportive and wise chums.

Charlie is tired. He is also too little, too young and too bossed about. And he's growing. And manufacturing hormones. It's tricky.

I took last night's advice on board and presented both boys with almond butter & banana on toast at 6.30am. In bed. Before they had their breakfast proper. I have NOT turned into a mollycoddling mother. I DID prevent WW3 breaking out again between 7 and 8.30am though. After the last couple of weeks that makes me a bloody hero, actually.

I've drip-fed him since he got home from school. He is still refusing the courgette cake which is actually his favourite, but which has become a stick he believes he's beating me with. He wasn't allowed it on Tuesday for pudding as he hadn't finished his tea - so now he won't eat it on principle. However, he has eaten his bodyweight in olives, hotdogs wrapped in leftover pizza dough (which I've discovered makes a far better roll than trying to make hotdog-size bridge rolls), sweetcorn pancakes made from leftover waffle batter and yoghurt with strawberries and date syrup.

I believe he might go to bed a happy boy tonight. Which will be rather nice.

And I'll got to bed happy that I've cleared the fridge ready for another weekend of fun & frolics.

Win win as some would say...