Sometimes it's my fault...

I think I may have mentioned that getting LittleBear out of the house can take a while. However, the correct answer when LittleBear asks me to make a crocodile eating a bunny rabbit out of melon for breakfast on a work day when we're running late is "No".

The correct answer is not this:

It's a melon crocodile eating a watermelon rabbit, obviously.

I can hardly blame my son for my own idiocy can I?

[And for the record, yes, we did end up ten minutes late leaving again. And, yes, I did end up heaving the hand-brake on with car half on the drive, half on the road, yelling at LittleBear to shut-up and then running back into the house to retrieve the cuddly penguin I'd forgotten before returning to the car to find a small boy weeping gently and telling me that "shut-up is a mean thing to say Mummy".]