The war cry

Due to the fucked up nature of this week one offered, very kindly one thought, to make Him his blasted beloved pancakes as a Sunday morning treat...

What? You aren't getting up at 4.30 to make them on Monday He asked in an aggrieved tone

Erm... no! It's bad enough that one will have to get up at 5.30 to go to work. Pancakes are not on offer

Bad slave He said. I could make you do it He added.

Yes you could

I suppose I would never hear the end of it He said in a considering tone as he weighed up the options

Oh you would hear the end of it... of course so would everyone else via the blog...

Anyway this went on for few minutes, back and forth, with far more humour than the idea warranted until He conceded that his idea was unreasonable Sunday pancakes were better than no pancakes...

This morning He came home too tired to eat and one was about to go out for a run, so promising Him pancakes when he woke we went our separate ways...

A few hours later He emerged from the cave chanting...

Pancakes, pancakes, pancakes...

Sighs sometimes one can't help but feel that His inner child is left in charge way too often :)