The girls usually bite big chunks out of the middle of their morning toast rectangles, turning them into some kind of amorphous animals that squeak at each other over the breakfast table.
It's well established that Peanut is the mother while Bug is the baby. I would like to say their conversations are complex and deep, but normally they consist of high pitched "Mummy, mummy!" and "Baby, baby!" Ad infinitum.
But this morning Peanut, being hungry and with big plans for drawing a giraffe right after breakfast, scoffed her toast.
When the squeaky bread child came calling across the table, she was very blunt: " Sorry, but your mother has been eaten. Try again tomorrow."
The toast baby did not seem too perturbed.
Mrs Accident: raising resilient* children since 2008....
*read "shockingly callous"