Feeding the ducks

They may be swans to you, but in the world of the Boy Wonder they're ducks, and they say "A, a".

In fact, there were some ducks in the feeding mêlée, but the swans were pushier and more obvious. There were also some feral geese, one of which got out of the water and marched over to the pushchair, with the clear intention of helping itself to some of the bread B was holding. He turned and gazed at it in surprise, though without obvious fear. Grandma J however has met geese before, and promptly dropped the camera and shooed the goose away. (I mention this as evidence that I am grandmother first and photographer second, should anyone (me) be in any doubt of my priorities.) Geese, interestingly, now don't say "A, a", but instead make a noise that's more akin to a honk.

Speaking of honking, by the time we arrived back from Stratford the toy trumpet had been delivered. The BW was quite interested to watch it being unpacked, but when I blew it experimentally and we all discovered that it was capable of making a noise like a vuvuzela, he was horrified, and it had to be removed to the table in the conservatory, where he could still see it through the closed French windows, but was safe from any danger of it squawking at him. Luckily R was able to retrieve the situation over the course of the afternoon: every time B was ready to risk another encounter he would point at it and say "Too-too!", and R would fetch it and quietly blow a funny or entertaining rhythm. By ninner time the Boy was almost, but not quite, ready to have a go with it himself.