Thank crunchie it’s Friday. Oh sorry Cadbury’s, I mean, the weekend is upon us and I’m truly joyful. Tomorrow I plan to sleep past 7am and the fact that it’s Mothering Sunday on well, Sunday, here in Germany, does not mean, dear slightly smaller ones, that you should wake me at an un-eye-openable-time, bouncing on my bed with home-made/school-made/Kindergarten-made cards either.
Akasha, remember you hid one of your several home-made pictures under the footstool in the kitchen, you know, the one with the stickers on it? I didn’t look. I promise. I averted my eyes from the surprise that you told me all about. I carefully hoovered around the object, eyes half closed, despite your sister Lori having just shattered a good glass, and splinters reaching far and wide. Perhaps you could be careful when you retrieve your picture? Just in case.
I’d also like to point out that I would like breakfast in bed. Yes. But before you start please reread the first paragraph. Eggs are good. But whites should be white. The clue is in the name. Coffee is good. Especially when still warm. Cake in the afternoon is even better.
Massages are welcome. As are fetching and carrying all the items that I request. Taking the position of a footstool, by getting down on all fours, so I have somewhere to rest my weary legs, would be highly appreciated. The remote control is mine. Bubble baths are heavenly. Me cooking dinner is strictly forbidden.