It’s not unusual that our mornings start with some rather odd demands from Ned. Since he’s three, you can tell his thought process in it’s entirety as he’s not really developed a proper internal monologue quite yet. His normal conversation goes like this:
Can I have the TV on?
No, it’s only 6am.
Can I have some sweets?
No, it’s only 6am.
Can I have my breakfast?
That in a nutshell is his order of importance. Still, this morning he excelled himself, possibly because the television was already on.
Can I have a pie?
A pie? Not for breakfast, no. We don’t have any pies anyway.
There’s a box of pies downstairs. I’ll put one in a bowl and have it.
Oh, you mean mince pies? No it’s breakfast time.
I’ll say okay but then put one in a bowl anyway and take it in to the sitting room and eat it, ha ha!
You can’t, there aren’t any left.
Who ate all the pies?
At this point I missed the golden opportunity to teach him the “who ate all the pies” football chant and I’m still kicking myself!