LittleBear: Mummy! You haven't got anything to drink with your dinner!
PhysicsBear: So I don't. I'll go and get something. Thank you LittleBear.
I head into the kitchen and put the kettle on
LB: Mummy? Are you ever going to not have tea to drink with lunch and dinner?
PB: Erm... I quite often don't have tea actually. In fact, you're right, I don't want tea. I'll have something else.
I turn kettle off
LB: Are you going to have wine?
It's 5:45. Yes, it was a vexing, frustrating, rage-inducing day at work, but I'm not going to hit the bottle. Yet.
PB: No, I think I'll just have juice, thank you.
LB: But you like wine don't you Mummy?
PB: Ah, well, yes I suppose I do. Why do you think I like wine?
Beginning to get perturbed now. I mean, I think the last time LittleBear saw me drink any wine was at Christmas, and that was one glass. Where has this idea come from?
LB: Because Daddy likes wine
Even more bemused now. I can't remember when BigBear last drank a glass of wine. Flummoxed by this conversation I decide on a change of course.
PB: I'm having juice. Would you like to try some?
LB: Juice is yucky to me.
PB: Have you ever tried it?
LB: No. It's yucky.
PB: How do you know it's yucky?
LB: Because I've never tried it.
And there is the heart of the logic that appears to prevent LittleBear eating or drinking anything new. Meanwhile I am left with a lingering concern about what LittleBear might be saying about my drinking at nursery...