Ommmmmmmmmmm

The chicklets and I have a regular breakfast date with my dear friend The Plate Invigilator (TPI).

It's always a race to gulp back our cafe au laits and scoff as many mini croissants as fast as is humanly possible before the chicklets get bored and decide to clamber out their highchairs and run around the cafe terrorising the other diners.

So I keep a stash of small plastic toys in my (usually capacious) handbag to produce at two minutely intervals. This buys us another slurp of a hot beverage or mouthful of pastry each. (We try to cut back on conversation too, to allow for more eating.)

I've spoken before of my pride that, on the single word command of 'yoga!', both chicklets will lie on their backs and stick both legs up in the air. But I was never prouder than when at two recent breakfast dates, chicklet #1 took a plastic animal, laid it on its back and when asked by TPI 'what's the cow doing?', chirped in reply: 'yoga!'.

Ah...sorry, ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.