The life of a three-year-old is notoriously high paced. We have all been there at some point, running around hysterically, clothed one minute then unclothed the next. Building forts out of any discarded material lying about, then digging a hole at least an arm length deep. Not that you can remember such a time in your own life obviously, you experience it vicariously whenever a current three-year-old shows up on your doorstep demanding entry and a place to dig a hole.
Oliver lives an above-average and notoriously high-paced life. It is mandatory to move around a spherical object or two every day, for obvious reasons that I am sure Oliver himself will explain to you (expect a call from him shortly). Astute observations flow like spaghetti through a sieve with holes just large enough to accommodate the average width of a strand of spaghetti.
E.g., “The pool looks like a slug, in shape, texture, and colour.”
Very apt young one.
Truly unburdened by the fear of appearing insane, the truths of a youngling are rather revolutionary.
It is time for the EVENING MEAL.
The pre-packaged macaroni squelches out of the plastic and onto the plate. White sauce oozing.
There is no time to simply sit and eat, however. No, how would one then have an entire system crash at that awkward time in the evening when something else slightly important is going on? He must run. Step one of enjoying an on-the-go evening meal: Establish a vomit corner.
Oliver is no new kid on the block though, he has seen many on-the-go dinners and he has learnt a thing or two in his time. Chiefly among which is the realisation that a vomit corner functions best when it is out of sight of the parenting body. Like just around the corner.
The white sauce facilitates the macaroni’s sliding down and then up his little gullet.
“All finished! Well done Ols!”
The perfect crime. That is until someone ventures around the corner, but to a three-year-old, that time span can seem a lifetime.