This morning was the morning of interesting conversations with the boy. He stated that his selection box was not chocolate. Intrigued I asked him what it was,
‘It’s wheat, all of it, even the flake’ he informed me like I was crazy to even ask
‘How do you know it’s wheat?’ I said picking just one question of the very many possible
‘The manager says so’ he replied quickly and calmly
‘Oh, who’s the manager?’ I enquired
‘I am. I am the manager’ he stated with absolute authority. Okay. Well that settles that. Wheat buttons anyone? Maybe dairy wheat bar?
The next conversation of note I have to admit that I can’t quite remember what sparked. It was about somebody having something new. I can’t remember who or what the new item was other that it was something rather large, somewhere between a house and car.
‘Did it come from the pound shop?’ he asked and on hearing my negative he moved on to
‘Did it come from the 99p shop?’ again my response was negative and I indicated that it probably cost a little more than that so the boy upped his game
‘Did it come from the 1 billion pound shop?’ he asked getting quite excited now. I told him that I didn’t think there was a 1 billion pound shop
‘There is a 1 billion pound shop! It’s in Oxford.’ again this was stated with such authority as to end the conversation. There was simply no more to be said, the hammer was down and the matter closed. We are planning on going into Oxford tomorrow, I would quite like a quick browse in the 1 billion pound shop. I hope it isn’t like Diagon Alley and hidden from the window shopping oiks like myself.
I have a strange and creeping notion that the boy is growing up to become an evil genius and is already planning his secret lair and recruiting henchmen and minions. The girl is defiantly on the pay roll. He probably pays in wheat bars.
In other news, tomorrow afternoon we are off to get the boy a hair cut. He has strongly maintained his desire for Justin Bieber hair. I am starting to wonder if this comes under the ‘within reason’ clause of my stance on the children’s hair, that they get to chose the style and cut given it is their hair not mine. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see if I manage to brave walking into a hairdresser and making that request, maybe I could make a new clause that they have to tell the hairdresser themselves and I can pretend that they aren’t mine?