Sour face

This morning I caught Petal sneaking something out of the fridge and dashing into her bedroom, firming closely the door behind her.

I couldn’t figure out what treat she’d found in there. Cakes? Lollies? Broccoli (I wish…)

I quietly opened her door to find her swigging from a bottle of Lemon Squeeze. That’s 100% undiluted, bitter-as-all-hell, lemon juice.

Odd.

Feeling like a boob

Rocket told me this morning:

"I like your boob."

Yes, just the one.

What am I?

Petal woke me this morning to tell me she'd written three sentences about me. They were:

1) My mummy can't be a fish.
2) My mummy can't be a shark.
3) My mummy can't be a duck.

My question is: who said I could be?

Given the boot

Rocket and Petal are watching television together.

“My love Dora,” declares Rocket.

Cue an opportunity for Petal to tease him.

“Ha, ha, Dora is your girrrrl-friend.”

“No, she not!” protests Rocket.

I’m proud of him standing up to his big sister. C’mon, as if he’d think he could have a romantic relationship with an animated character.

Pity he follows it up with…

“Boots is my boyfriend.”

Wet dog?

In the bathroom this morning, Rocket asked me if he could have a ‘shower dog’.

I had no idea what he meant until her pointed to his sister’s ‘shower cat’.

Ah, yes, her shower cap.

Mwah!

Petal confessed to me that she’d almost kissed a boy at school.

“What happened?” I was intrigued.

“We were standing in line and he was in front of me, so I tried to kiss his back but he turned around and saw me.”

“And…?” This was getting interesting.

“He asked, ‘What are you doing?’”

“What did you say?” I was gripped.

“I told him I was sounding out the letter ‘M’. Mmmm…”

He bought it.

Wet, wet, wet

When Petal prefers to have a shower on her own, she asks me:

“Can I have a lonely shower?”

Strangely, a wave of sadness comes over me.