Yesterday morning my younger daughter had a Mini-Milk for breakfast.
It’s all Mickey Mouse’s fault. Or possibly Minnie’s.
Absolutely definitely nothing to do with her parents and their love of saying yes to the little things once in a while. No, it wouldn’t be that at all.
One of the girls’ weekend treats is quite often a little television in the morning, particularly if Mummy and Daddy are absolutely shattered and don’t quite have the energy for anything else until the hour on the clock is a little more sociable or H’s has had his morning coffee, and if Elma’s choosing then it’s either going to be “Iggle Pickle!” or “Daddy! I watchy Mickey Mouse!”. Thank goodness for on demand television.
To be fair I can see the attraction of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, who wouldn’t like a magic clubhouse that appears when you say magic words and comes fitted with every room, every toy and every tool you could possibly need, and a whole host of handy helpers to clean up after you and do all the hard work. And all for counting to ten occasionally; it sounds like a good deal to me.
Oh and if the handy helpers can’t fix it, or you’ve forgotten whatever it was that you need, all you have to say is “Oh Tootles!” and along comes a flying Mickey-shaped head with four options to fill in for whatever you’re missing.
Elma loves it. And not just because of her long standing affection for Minnie Mouse. And what Elma loves, Elma copies (Kitty doing anything being the ultimate case in point).
She sat up on H’s dinner chair on Saturday morning, a tiny girl in twinkle pyjamas with her hair splayed out and tickling her nose.
She giggled and looked at the television where the final credits were still rolling:
And H, standing across the room from her, took one look at her face, put down his cup of tea, and with snitch-like hand flapping flying, trotted over to her:
Elma looked up at her father, decided that his current mood was worth a punt, produced her cutest smile, and went for the kill:
And from the depths of the freezer produced one small pink Mini Milk.
And yes I know it’s not the healthiest thing that anyone ever ate for breakfast, (dairy is a source of calcium and other good things though – but even I’ll stop short of claiming any involvement of fruit in the production of pink), but it might just be the thing that produced the biggest smiles from my baby girl.
It wasn’t really about the ice lolly anyway, not for any of us, so much as the fact that we said yes, yes to a request that 9 times out of 10 we’d say no to, or find an alternative, or just make ordinary breakfast. We said yes to a frivolous request, the simplest thing in the world.