I am standing at the kitchen bench barefoot, making the children something to eat.
As I cut the crusts off a piece of toast, to Theo’s prescription, I drop them on the floor for the dog.
‘That was surprising!’ Theo notes of the commotion that ensures; flat-faced-cat trying to lick buttered edges before they are inhaled by an ever available Dachshund shaped garbage disposal.
I hand Theo a piece of toast. Buttered with hummus. Crusts, as mentioned, removed.
‘And a top piece?’ he asks of me. ‘It’s convenient that way’.