Part of bear's dratted sponsorship is a suggestion that he helps with meals. Bear thinks this is brilliant. I feel a bit like a rabbit in the headlights. Bear has Views about what he wants to make.
I am feeling flattened. I suspect (with a great deal of sadness) that the crisps that Tesco promise are gluten free are not, or at least don't agree with me. I am in a lot of pain so DH is making dinner. Bear is his assistant.
I have sat up here, hurting, while listening to DH and bear in the kitchen. I can imagine the conversation at school...
'So, bear, what did you do at the weekend?'
Bear considers the two days carefully. He thinks about his visit to the Donkey Sanctuary, the trip to Scarborough, his utter disdain at the prices in the gem shop. "This weekend I learned to use a tin opener."
Bear is having tinned ravioli. I am grateful that there is a chance he will eat more than candy floss - especially as he sort of dodged the question about the lunch his uncle gave him (or didn't) to get access to the pure sugar. All the rest I am just leaving until tomorrow.