Feeding Time

It's early. I am sitting on my chair feeling quite grumpy. I don't think I had enough sleep. In fact, I was awake several times in the night. No-one seems to be giving me any sympathy though.

It's fair to say I am feeling quite sorry for myself. I'm hungry too. This is rubbish.

The good lady comes through from the kitchen. She has a bowl of something. I perk up slightly. Food? For me? Well, I don't mind if I do.

She puts it down in front of me. I give her a brief smile until I look at what she has brought.

What is this? Toast with something on it cut into thin fingers?

I pick one of the fingers up disinterestedly. Hmm. I inspect it distrustingly before giving it an experimental prod with my tongue.

I throw it to the floor and scrunch my face up and yell.

The good lady is still in the kitchen. She doesn't seem to be bothered by my yelling.

I yell harder and start banging the table in front of me with both hands.

Bang. Bang. BANG. BANG!

Come on, bring me some decent food!?!

The good lady comes out of the kitchen at last and arches an eyebrow at me, in her hand is something else. I can sort of smell it. She puts it down in front of me.

I have no idea what it is. I pick it up and take a bite. Bleurgh. I let it fall out my mouth and throw the rest of it down to the ground.

The good lady sighs.

I suppose if I bought you sweets or crisps you would gobble them right up?

She looks over my head.

Daddy? Do you want to try feeding him? He is just throwing it all away. It's all his favourite stuff too.

There is a grumbling noise from afar and I see the big Daddy buffoon thing lumber toward me. I try to roll my eyes but haven't got the hang of it yet.

I blow him a raspberry instead.