Now that Nërp has moved the walls, roof etc of Wilson's Museum into position, the boys have set to painting them.
Wilson has chosen a bright blue colour paint, and quite a lot of it is going on the grass – leading to a lot of jokes about Blue-Grass Music.
While they paint, the lads are singing:
🎶This is the way we paint the walls/Paint the walls/Paint the walls🎶
🎶This is the way we paint the walls/On a Summer's afternoon🎶
Which is allegedly a traditional anteater song sung for hundreds of years by skilled anteater craftsmen.
Whether or not that is true, I can vouch for it being very annoying, as those are the only words, repeated ad-infinitum…
As soon as we arrived home, Wilson ran into the house in search of Nërp.
He eventually located him in the garden discussing Abstract Expressionism with the sTone Brothers.
Soon, however, he was Manfully (well, Robotfully, I suppose) transporting structural parts of the Museum across the garden with relative ease.
'They're heavier than they look!' he would occasionally remark, while leaning against something for support.
The boys looked on in silent admiration of Nërp's undoubted strength from a safe distance…
After a number of goes on all the rides and a quick look round the Toy Shop, we went to the restaurant for hot chocolate with marshmallows and hot cross buns.
Halfway through his hot chocolate – just after he'd been back to the counter to ask for some extra marshmallows – Wilson clapped his paw to his head, and exclaimed, 'Nërp!'
Byron and I (and several surprised diners) turned to stare at him.
Continuing, W explained, 'Nërp can do all the heavy lifting for us – work on the museum can proceed after all!'
On the drive home, Byron said he was a bit sad that he hadn't seen Father Xmas at the Mall, and I tried to explain the difference between Xmas and Easter.
Wilson, on the other hand, kept shouting, 'Drive faster, New Dad! Faster!'
He's desperate to get home and resume work on the Museum…
Following yesterday's disappointing pronouncement, an air of melancholy has descended on the two lads.
In an attempt to lift their spirits I've packed them into the car and driven them to a local Mall.
Byron very excited by the rides as, although they have similar rides at the zoo, he is not allowed on them – they are apparently for Visitors' Use Only which, while understandable, seems a bit mean.
Wilson, though, is still deeply troubled by the thought that his New Museum may never become a reality…
First thing this morning Wilson showed Byron round the Building Site, hoping he'd be suitably impressed by its scale and ambitiousness.
After inspecting the groundworks and the kit of parts, he eventually turned to Wilson.
'We can't do it, Bro – it's all just too… well, big. And heavy. We can't even lift the bits!'
Wilson was a bit crestfallen to hear this, and asked Byron whether he'd feel any better about the project if he gave him a Hard Hat and let him have a go on the Surveyor's Theodolite.
B shook his head sadly and said, 'I'm sorry, mate – I think it's beyond us!'
