Today has been a me and mummy day, and mummy had plans for us to have adventures ... but sadly we ended up having a bit of a brawl instead.

Of course, mummy's adventures usually involve some kind of rainy, shivery picnic, and today was the same as usual. I helped mummy to pack the picnic by bringing her our special picnic bag, and filling it with my books and tiny toy people. Our picnic bag is cool, by the way. It has drawings of smiley people on it, all standing in the sunshine. I reckon that this is what mummy believes our picnics will be like, whenever she decides that we are going to have them ... only they are never anything like that in real life.

When the food was all packed into the picnic bag, mummy got us both into the car and we drove quite far away, to a place with a big lake, and trees all around, and a teashop full of nice cakey smells.

By the time we got to the lake place the sky had gone a dark, dark grey colour, it was freezing cold, and rain was boshing down onto the windows of our car. I felt a bit scared because I wondered if mummy was going to force me to eat picnic on a bench outside like she usually does ... but it turned out that this much rubbish weather was too much even for mummy's crazy ways.

We actually ate our picnic in the car, sitting in mummy's seat together and trying not to get too many crumbs on the floor. I wasn't actually that bothered about the crumbs to be honest, but mummy made quite a big deal about it.

When we had eaten all of our food, mummy wrapped us both up in big coats, put our wellies on our feet and our hoods up over our heads, and said that we were going to walk round the lake.

I didn't love this idea, but I was not that cold with my big coat on, and the rain had made lots of big puddles for me to jump in which meant that the walk was actually quite good fun. But the thing that really made me go along with mummy's plan was mummy saying that if I walked really nicely around the lake like a big girl, and didn't complain, then we could go into the nice teashop and eat a cake together afterwards.

Every time that my legs got bored of walking, or my hands felt cold, or I just wanted to complain, I thought about that cake and I carried on. I was really very, very wonderful during the lake walk.

And then we got to the teashop, and mummy told me how well I had done ... and that's when the brawl happened.

Mummy chose a table for us and she lifted me up onto a big chair with two of my books. Then she asked me to wait on the chair while she went to buy our cake. I didn't want to wait on the chair - I wanted to jump down and run around, and make pretty patterns on the clean floor with my muddy wellies - so I screwed up my face and started to wail.

Mummy was cross, and she told me that I must stop crying, or she would take me home again and put me on the landing, and we would have no cake. I didn't believe that she would do this: partly because I had been so wonderful on the lake walk; partly because we had come a long way in the car to get here, and the landing was very far away; and partly because I know how much mummy loves cake, and she would not want to miss out on eating some.

So I ignored her and carried on wailing ... and mummy picked me up and carried me back out of the teashop, back into the car ... and then she got into her seat and drove us all the way back home.

It was one of the saddest times I have ever had. No cake, no teashop - and one very angry mummy, who was so cross with me that she gave me one of her long, boring talks about Why We Do Not Cry Unless We Are Hurt once we got back home again. Just to show mummy that I was not impressed by her talk, I started to cry again, right into her big cross face.

Mummy put me on the landing for "time out", and told me that I would have to stay there until I stopped crying again.

When mummy brought me back from "time out" I decided that it was probably best not to cry again, because even though I wasn't going to get any cake, at least I would get to play in my playroom instead of sitting on the landing and being bored.

But when I was playing in the living room and mummy seemed to have stopped being quite so mad, I couldn't help mocking her a little bit, just for the fun of it. So I picked up my juice cup, put it on the sofa, and said to it in my best cross-mummy-voice: "Juice! Naughty juice! Go on the yanding!!"

Then I looked sideways, over to where mummy was sitting on the other sofa, and grinned my most wicked grin.

Mummy did not say anything, but I am pretty sure that she was trying not to laugh. She was a lot less cross by this time.

The brawl was pretty much over by bedtime, and mummy gave me lots of kisses and cuddles as usual when she put me into bed. But I have learnt two very important things today. The first is that when mummy says she will put me on the landing, she means it - even if the landing is far, far away. And the other thing is that mummy is so stubborn that she will do all kinds of things to stop me from winning a brawl. She will even go without cake.