Discovering the Emotions: Disgust

It’s Saturday today. Since there’s no school, I’ve had a lie-in this morning. But then my mum came to the door of my room and called:

“Wake up, dear! Don’t you go thinking you’re going to sleep all day just because you have the day off!”

I blearily opened my eyes and stared at her grumpily.

“You look like you’ve just caught a whiff of the bin lorry,” she laughed, pulling back the curtains. “Up you get, breakfast is already on the table.”

Still yawning, I shuffled into the kitchen. My dad was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper.

“Good morning, Martin,” he said cheerfully.

“Morning,” I replied, yawning so hard that I could quite comfortably have swallowed an entire bin lorry.

My dad glanced up from his paper for a second, and then went back to reading.

Still barely awake, I surveyed the table. “Toast with peanut butter? Isn’t there anything else?”

“Don’t make such a long face,” my dad scolded. “You need a varied diet, you can’t eat yogurt and pancakes every day, young man.”

I grimaced, but set about eating my breakfast without saying anything – I knew full well I couldn’t soften my dad up. And since hunger is hunger, I wolfed it all down.

“See, that didn’t hurt you, did it?” my dad remarked afterwards with a smile.

I thanked my parents for the breakfast and ran back to my room to get dressed.

I threw on a t-shirt and shorts, shoved a pair of trainers on and made for the door.

“Where are you rushing off to? Don’t forget that we’re going to the museum after lunch. You’ll need to be back in an hour.”

“Only an hour?!” That made me grumpy again.

I like…