Kingsley you raised hell to have apple juice, then more apple juice, then an entire glass of apple juice. And thereafter it is me, your mumma, who must deal with the disaster of raised blood sugar levels, aching stomach, and inability to sit still or even worse, get in the bloody pram when its time to GO.
Do I blame the lovely wait staff at Emirates Towers who fell for you hard (okay you are very charming and engaging with your ‘hallo’ waves to everybody) and wanted to shower you with your favourite thing of the moment – apple juice? No. And I certainly won’t blame me. I must blame you darling one for insisting on being a guzzler.
Well after you fell backward onto the carpets to deal with the acid-sugar-combo induced tummy ache, we ventured to the royal peacocks to burn off all that sugar. And to play football to further eliminate the sugar from your blood. Then you ran with two neighbourhood dogs to completely obliterate any remaining sugar stored in your liver. Then it was time to go home…and then the sugar low; the crash I was reluctantly waiting for but as usual unprepared to deal with: you just wouldn’t get in your pram!!! Didn’t want to go home. Insisted you wanted to play some more.
Of course we managed to enjoy that half hour walk back to Al Kawakeb (because I loudly sing silly songs from your JiaJia Dora’s village in Lesvos) but it was now my turn to insist on something: no more bloody apple juice for you.