Oh, by the power of Greyskull, will SOMEBODY make this boy eat his melon-farming dinner? Not to mention drink from a bottle…
Patience don’t live here any more. Lets be honest… she was never even a house guest. (I am the sort of woman who presses the lift button 87 times whilst waiting for the doors to close.) I just don’t have TIME for this nonsense.
I much prefer this whole being-a-mother business on days when the microbe does my bidding. Blind, mindless obedience, is that too much to ask for?
Apparently he is his father’s son, anyway… I’ve started to follow the advice of his grandma, who had to sneak mouthfuls of savoury food into G’s mouth in between the sweet ones. Ye gods, it is a tedious business.