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Number 88 bus to Trafalgar Square and the National Portrait Gallery.

Mother "Look Small, there's St Stephen's Tower with Big Ben in it!" [what can I say, Mr Brixtonbrood has a pedantic spasm on this issue]
Small "That's where the spaceship crashed!"
Mother "Look Small, that's Downing Street, where Tony Blair lives!"
Small "That's where the Slitheen were!"
Mother "You can have one postcard as a souvenir - who do you want?"
Small "I want Queen Victoria - but she hasn't got a werewolf in the picture"

What the hell am I going to tell her about Rose!?

National Portrait has a rather nice little exhibition in the basement of works by visually impaired artists reflecting works in the collection. Small's favourite in the main collection was a 3D model theatre thing of JK Rowling which totally fails to reproduce on postcard. I enjoyed checking out David Beckham asleep which I hadn't seen in real life before.
If you haven't been there already the view from the restaurant on the new 3rd floor is fascinating - well worth considering for afternoon tea.
brixtonbrood: (Default)
Tiny aged 20 months, having hair washed in the bath
Looks up in perplexed manner "Is rainin'?"

Small, aged 44 months, being consulted on which snack she would like.
Mother: "Would you like the yellow cheese or the orange cheese?"
Small: in tone of mild contempt "I want the Red Leicester."
brixtonbrood: (Default)
Tiny's language skills are increasing exponentially as you'd expect at his age. But he still has a slight interpretation problem with one word. He has been running round shouting "Naughty, Naughty!" and we have deduced that he thinks it means "Fun!", oh dear.


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December 2016

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