“It’s not a bib Peter, it’s a tea towel and it’s to stop you splashing soup on your dress.” He spat a few more protests and threatened to purposely get soup on it. “If you get one splash on your dress Peter I’ll make sure each and every one of your friends finds out about it. As things stand it’s our little secret.. but that can soon change young man, mark my words.” I told him.
His bottom lip stuck straight out as he exhaled through his nostrils once again. No sooner had he finished his soup and bread, I whipped the plate and bowl into the sink and said it was time to leave.
He looked down at his dress, and then his bare feet and asked which shoes he should wear. “Well none of your boy shoes would look nice so I bought you these.” I grinned, revealing a pair of ballet pumps.