This is Xmas dinner 2009, just a few days before I turned 4. Grandma could always do those complicated meals that arrive on 19 different dishes, need 7 different cutleries, feed 7 different armies, and yet magically appear all at the same time. It's possible that she was assisted by a robot called "Hostess Trolley 1973" but I never saw it.
At the time I'd not got the hang of smiling nicely for the camera, it always ended up in some kind of manic grin-rictus. It tickled Grandma.
My homework is due in tomorrow so I had to finish transferring the rough copy to the neat booklet to hand in. I did have a huff when he wouldn't do it for me and I hope that Jof doesn't see the green pen scribbles all over the front of my work shirt. My huff/sulk/hormonal discharge continued all the way to gymnastics and because I hadn't eaten my lunch I didn't get any snacks. The reason I didn't eat the watermelon I so craved and the packed lunch I chose for myself is ..... laughing. I just can't help it when everyone else is having fun at lunchtime and then all of a sudden, the break is over and I haven't quite got around to opening my lunch. It's not my fault! BensMum says he's been a twit or a scat or a shack or something recently, quite possible that I am doing exactly the same thing.
Still, Jof doesn't know about this so she played me Monopoly.
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Hi! I'm glad you want to comment, for I like messages from humans. But if you're a Robot spam program, Google will put you in the spam folder for me to laugh at later.