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Blog: A healthy time at Fat Donald's
YOU think you know it all, then you have children. It’s how gaps in your general knowledge are exposed.
The five-year-old is getting too clever. “Why is milk white when cows eat grass?”
I think for a moment: “Calcium!” Her: “Cowcium? Cow-cium?” Me: “No, calcium. CAL-CI-UM.”
After five minutes, we agree that maybe it’s enough talking about calcium for now.
Walking away from a sweetie shop, she can’t comprehend why the sweetie man sells them and gives them all away.
Me: “Well, they’re not really his, see. He buys them off someone.”
I have a go at trying to simplify the micro-transactions that take place between wholesaler and retailer.
She thinks the fruit and veg off the market is grown in the trader’s garden.
It must be a ruddy good one, we buy coconuts off him. Looking at the road and trees, she says: “Some people think God made all of this. What do you think?” I think at the end of a working week, theology for five-year-olds is just what I want and need. Then she complained: “Daddy. My shadow keeps following me. I don’t like it.”
The two-year-old has got a horrible surprise coming too. She’s convinced the mini-break is at “Santa Parks.” I hope Center Parks can handle toddler meltdowns.
The other day on the road, she heard a wailing siren and angrily exclaimed from her buggy: “What’s dat?!!!”
“It’s okay, it’s an ambulance,” I said. She looked, thought for a bit, then tutted: “Noisy AMBIENCE! Made. Me. Dump!”
I hope she meant jump. But we are on potty training and pronunciation.
At lunchtime, she smeared her entire face and head with spaghetti hoops. Her reasoning: “Make hair? Like Farmer Miss Muss?” As I recall, Father Christmas doesn’t have tomato-based pasta in his hair.
As a special treat, the childminder took her to McDonald’s for the first time.
Returning home afterwards, she shoves open the lounge door and proclaims: “My been Fat Donald’s!”
All those millions spent putting salads on its menus - undone in a sentence.