Number Two is a child after my own stomach. He loves his food with a passion. One of his passions is sweet gooey stuff - maple syup, honey, gula melaka...you get the drift.
I was giving some manuka honey to Number One, who seemed to have stirrings of a cold, when Number Two also pleaded for some.
"What's wrong with you?" I ask.
"My leg is not better," says Number Two. There was a small wound a week ago, but it is now firmly a scar, and he has tried milking that one before so he knows he was pushing his luck here.
Reading my sceptical face right, he tries again :
"And my ear? My ear needs honey," he says, referring to where he has a cut due to a bump a few days ago.
He gets an A for effort so I give in and give him a drop, and he goes away happy.
Number Two's other love is crunchy stuff - papadams, prawn crackers, deep fried chicken skin, Grain Waves chips...Last week, Hubs said he would fry some papadams and Number Two was thrilled and voluntered to help.
He sets himself up right next to the stove. Hubs goes up to the stove but says, "Hmm, I don't have a pan," then turns around and heads to the cupboard. Meanwhile, Number Two thinks that Hubs has changed his mind since he is walking away. You should have seen the alarm in his eyes and the urgency in his voice as he envisions the would-be papadams slipping through his fingers...
"No, papa, nooooo. Don't give up!!"