First, wait until the table is set nicely.
Then announce ‘I’m going to sit here, Mummy’, and park yourself next to the chocolate. Cram at least five squares into your mouth before she has time to turn around.
Make sure your little brother is wound up to the point that he will only be carried, then insist on stirring the pancake mix. Make a blank face whenever your mother points out the hot pan, just to whack up the anxiety levels (NB: don’t actually touch this. It’s hot, and you are not stupid).
Discover an exciting new chocolate yoghurt on the table. Get out your biggest spoon, and dig in.
Refuse any notion that this is not to be eaten from the jar. Fools. (When they make a fuss about this, cry a lot.)
Remember the white chocolate you were stealing so gleefully earlier? Once it’s melted, you’ve never seen anything so disgusting. Do they expect you to eat this filth? Cry a lot more.
Make a late claim that you like pancakes now, just long enough for them to make you another. Eat three bites and then abandon it. Ask for the chocolate yoghurt some more.
Take so long over all of this that the baby has to wait twice as long for his dinner. What does this idiot know, anyway? He’d probably eat melted chocolate if they gave him half a chance.
Good job, soldier! Your mother’s face now looks like this. Go to bed in the glow of a job well done, and start planning for Easter.
Hey, do you have a spare couple of fingers and a mild fondness for this blog? I’d be ever so grateful if you’d nominate me in the MAD Blog Awards! Say, Best Writer or Best Baby Blog? There’s only a week left!