Thomas has developed a complex interior world that seems to consist mostly of planning picnic. "Mummy, can I tell you a problem?", he'll ask, and I'll say yes, and he'll say, "I think we should have a picnic. Would it be okay if we have a picnic? We should have sandwiches, and there should be bread, and we should have cheese and ham and lettuce. Would that be okay, Mummy?"
Of course I say yes.
"Okay, so we'll have a picnic. And we'll have Mummy and Daddy and Nat and me and the babies (he will eventually learn their names) and Grandma and Dave (he mysteriously calls my Dad by his first name and I always crack up) and Akira and Isaiah and Madeleine and Angus and Molly and Theresa."
"And we'll have chips. And ham. Is that okay?"
I need to read him the picnic section from The Wind in the Willows.
I polled the two other awake member of the family last night after nine (Nat and Geoff), and found out that in spite of all my worrying, they are both perfectly content eating roughly the same few things over and over- hash browns, mac'c'cheese, chili in different forms, stir fry, occasional salad, pasta. So I guess the only person who's getting bored is me. Good to know. Nat said, "Well, actually, I only like one of those things. What I really like is crackers and peanut butter for dinner." Sadly for him I only do that when I have actual influenza and can't cook, so it'll be another four years before his Perfect Dinner reappears, and by then I hope he's given up his deep abiding love of crackers for every meal.