Hot Cross Buns

We're coming up to easter, so I thought I'd tell you about me and Hot Cross Buns.

I like them. A lot.

I have them for breakfast sometimes,as often as I can persuade Mummy than I'm not going to eat my porridge. And today I decided that I'd have one in the afternoon. I'd just eaten a yoghurt, but I didn't let that stop me. Mummy and Daddy thought I might be poorly on Sunday, because I'd been a little bit sick in the morning. I felt fine - I tried to show them that by playing happily all day but that didn't stop them from practically starving me. So today I thought I better stock up.

When I heard Mummy leaving the bags of shopping in the hallway, I saw my opportunity, and took it. As soon as her back was turned, I crawled out of the lounge and toward the bags. I unpacked them as fast as I could, throwing aside a packet of those funny sticks that Mummy and Daddy poke in their mouths morning and evening, and other things that didn't look eatable.

Then I found what I was looking for. A packet of Hot Cross Buns. I don't know why they call them that. They don't look anything like angry raisins, and they don't feel even the tinyest bit warm. Perhpas I'll have to ask Daddy - he has known everything since he was only seven years old.

Anyway, I had a problem. Usually my Hot Cross Bun comes to me on a plate, spread with butter. These ones were covered in plastic. But I didn't let that stop me. Mummy and Daddy may think that I have been practicing my pincer grip in order to turn the pages of my books. Now they know how versatile it is! Because I tore open the packet, before you could say Heath Robinson (or should that be Jack Robinson?).

By the time Mummy came back, I'd eaten enough to make sure she wouldn't take it off me!