"No no no," Boromir protested, batting at the damp cloth.

"Yes yes yes," I replied, finally catching his chin. "How do you manage to make such a mess? "

He had porridge on his hands, all over on his face, and even in his hair; jam was smeared from ear to ear, and milk was spilled all down the front of his tunic.

"No, still hungry!" he insisted, pulling away from me. "More please!"

I sighed, gave up, and handed him the last piece of toast. "I suppose I should just be glad that you have such a healthy appetite."