The Show must Goon

Straight after school we had an argument about food logic. So, he says, if you didn't eat your lunch then clearly you don't want food so there won't be an afternoon snack. But Finlay was distracting me, I said, feed me, feed me now. OK, he says, if you only get half a lunch you can have a snack. Not good enough, I say, for tomorrow I might be hungry. It's one of those circular arguments where everybody and nobody is right.
The Head Teacher was right, though, she gave me a certificate for 100% attendance these last 6 weeks. How difficult can it be?
Arrived at Thursday Park where Bob said his Mum wasn't allowed a shower for 4 weeks and that I should wear a hat so he doesn't have to look at my hair.
We played Tag for a while but it takes us longer to shout about the rules than to play a game so we invented a new one with Ben. One boy is the bus driver and he scoots along the path hooting 'Get out of the way, Grandma'. The rest of the clan are elderly ladies with a variety of injuries and they attempt to cross the road before the bus driver mows them down and sends them to Granny Heaven.
We sourced walking sticks of various lengths from dogs of various heights and hobbled around the path, shuffling along bent double like crones with Crohn's, pronounced curvature of the spine and Alzheimer's, why not.
During some 'I am the King of the World' on the curly yellow slide, I got Ben in the face and he got me back and it was all his fault apart from where it was all my fault and I howled until we said sorry and we came back to mine and made Lego cops'n'robbers like nothing had happened.