My favourite waste of time

No, not the Owen Paul ditty (although you'll be humming it all day now and I can't believe it only got to number 19 in the Swiss 'hit parade'!).

My favourite waste of time is walking up to the café with M, I nurse a renversé (no cakes for me now I'm being relatively good on WW) and he orders a jus de pomme and a mini carac. We read, play with playmobil and set the world to rights like 2 old women.

Today I had a parcel to post so we stopped at the post office on the way, with M sitting there shouting "carac" from behind his hands.

I had a horrible feeling that our usual café was closed as it is half term, and after a bet (M was convinced it would be open) it was indeed closed. Luckily there is a bus stop right outside, so we decided to hop on the bus until we saw a café (which obviously had to sell caracs!). Just as the bus pulled up, M decided that he wanted to go home instead, so we started walking home. I thought we should try a bakery for a carac, but we passed a hotel with what I thought was a café, so we went in. Turns out it was a bar, but they did coffee and apple juice so we stayed. They also produced a doughnut for M, which in hindsight was a bad thing, as he was a nightmare in the supermarket later.
I seem to think that we had a conversation about rabbits, but I have absolutely no idea what about.

We called into the supermarket on the way home, as I had grand plans to vaguely acknowledge Valentine's day by buying some little pots of Movenpick icecream for dessert, and cooking dinner just for A and I (obviously with M eating beforehand!). M grabbed a basket, put it on wheels and then proceeded to hare around the place with me trying to remain calm and unruffled, but failing miserably (combination of PMT, tiredness and general moodiness).

On the walk back, M thought he spotted E, one of the educatrices from atelier, as he saw a lady with long brown hair, boots and a baby in her tummy. We then chatted about how the baby came out, the fact that babies grow in wombs not tummies, that men can't have babies because they don't have wombs and that babies are (generally) born through a woman's vagina (thats where your period comes from isn't it mummy?).

We also cut our way through a jungle to get home, and talked about alligators and crocodiles (starting with 'see you later alligator, in a while crocodile') and decided that we need to find out the differences between them (I think this may be an internet task as I don't think we have an adequate book).

Now at home, A has skyped to say he is going to be late again (at this rate the earliest he'll be home is 10pm :( ) I'm hoping that the amount of work he is doing will mean that his fixed hour contract will finish mid-March so we'll have a couple of weeks with him at home before his next contract starts, but just occasionally I would like a bit of help at bedtime, and I know M misses him.

Let M stay up until 8pm, because Flat Stanley was the CBeebies bedtime story. I bought the book for him a while back and we haven't quite gotten through it yet, but he was listening spellbound to the version on tv, I guess because its a somewhat shortened version.
He's now leafing through See Inside Castles, which I'm guessing I'll have to remove from his face in a few minutes as he is so tired. Well, thats the plan anyway!