Once we got inside the farm, and Wilson had been assured that the sheep wouldn't bite him, he started handing out sheep food to all and sundry. He even tried it himself, but decided it 'needs more ants' — his standard criticism of any food he doesn't like.
There were not only sheep and lambs on the farm but also calves, foals, a baby piglet and his mummy, field mice, chickens and a farm cat. Wilson isn't quite certain whether cats like him, but he offered this one some sheep food, which it refused.
Later the farmer invited him to bottle-feed some lambs, an opportunity W jumped at. Afterwards he told me they were 'Mighty little suckers!' who had all but pulled the bottles from his paws.
Then he fed the baby piglet, which was adorable.
When we get home, I'm expecting a campaign for W to be allowed a baby pig. Having seen the piglet's mother, who is the size of a small family car, I shall resist these requests with all my might!
Finally, The Bees have asked me to remind you that it will be time for their Guest Blog tomorrow, and they've amped up the experience to a new, more professional level. Whatever that means — they are still tight-lipped about exactly what will happen!
Anyway, find out what transpired in the rest of our trip to the farm the day after tomorrow — see you then!
Today, as I'd promised, I took Wilson to our local Sheep Petting Farm.
He was so excited that by the time I'd parked the car and made my way to the entrance he had already bought our tickets and a bag of Sheep Food, and was standing outside shouting, 'Hurry up, New Dad! Hurry up! The baby lambs are waiting for me to feed them!'
I hope our visit takes his mind off waiting for comedians to reply to his emails asking whether they wanted to buy some of his jokes...
Wilson is busy emailing comedians to see whether they want to buy any of his jokes, while The Bees have banned everyone from entering the dining room because they are preparing for their 'extra special' Guest Blog on Sunday.
Which leaves me, for once, at a bit of a loose end. So I thought I'd take this opportunity to explain why you've been seeing fewer stories about Wilson lately.
Anyone who has looked after young children knows what hard work it is, and taking care of young Wilson is like trying to keep toddler triplets out of trouble in a working sawmill with no safety guards: it's a 24/7 job!
So recently, I've been posting W's adventures just five days a week instead of seven, which leaves me Tuesdays and Thursdays to get on with my own work. I hope you understand.
This weekend I plan to take W to a local sheep farm to see some lambs being born — I'm sure he'll love it.
He'll either love it, or he'll be so shocked he will have to see his therapist again...
Between writing down jokes (while TT was gasping for breath) Wilson confided to me that, just because he didn't understand most of the jokes didn't mean he couldn't monetise them.
He plans to try selling them to tv comedians; people like Michael Mcintyre and Bradley Walsh, both of whom he really likes. He says it will be a convenient way of getting rich because he can do it from the comfort of his bed.
TT took a deep breath and started up again:
'So, there was a mathematician who had a cattle farm. He had 198 cows, but when he rounded them up he had 200! As a child, I had an obsession with Posh Spice — it cost my mum a fortune in saffron. A man walked into a bar — ouch!'
Wilson raised his paw and observed, I've already heard that one!'
'In that case,' TT replied, 'you've been a wonderful audience, and I've been Tiny Toy. Thank you and goodnight!'
Suddenly Wilson clapped his paw to his forehead and exclaimed, 'D'oh! What am I thinking?'
He rushed back and opened the brown paper bag, tipping TT unceremoniously out onto the table.
As soon as he was out of the bag, TT took several deep breaths, coughed and continued:
'Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen! Anyway, the first time I got a universal remote control, I thought to myself "This changes everything." I asked my North Korean friend how it was there — he said he couldn't complain...'
I thought Wilson had suddenly realised that using the Bag of Serenity* had been an overreaction, but that was not the case — he snatched up his pencil and started writing all TT's jokes into his Joke Book, muttering, 'This is gold! Pure Gold!'
*Patent pending
