Vegetable Horror

Katherine has been writing a comic book for her brother. And, on a slow blip day, here it is. I think next week home school will be focussing on spelling and penmanship. The story, in case you are interested, is a tale of terror and knifing on a Sunday lunch time, with superheros and a rescue. Katherine doesn't like butternut squash any more, which I suppose is why she wants it saved from the knife.

Some light reading aside, today we had some discouraging news from a bloke who was trying to help us sort ourselves out, then went into town for the kids to get haircuts and us all to go out for a meal with Mr B's parents. Not the best meal. Conor had a melt down due to hunger (never thought to ask for them to bring the kids' meals with our starters as every restaurant I've been to in any country for years and years just does that automatically). When his food finally arrived he totally lost it. He'd asked for mashed potato (he's a lad of simple tastes) but was hoping for slightly more than two teaspoon-fuls shaped into slugs (they would have called them 'quenelles' but I'm not gracing any such travesty of food with a french sounding name). It wasn't even nice fluffy mash, but that nasty slimy yellow stuff that's made with the wrong kind of potatoes in a food processor. He refused it. There was a fuss, and he had to be carried out to the car to just have a moment to calm down... Horrible. When we came back in he was presented with two new potato slugs (the old ones were cold) and tried to eat them. But pronounced them too spicy. And sure enough when I tried them they were laced with so much salt and pepper that I couldn't eat them either. Vile. Not going back there.