Dinner time at my house. We are all sitting down together at the dining table, sharing the highlights of our day.
Now I know this sounds very Brady Bunchesque, but believe me, most nights I can be found in the kitchen frantically cooking up three different meals – one for me (FODMAPS-friendly); one for the kids (tasteless and without any ‘weird green bits’); and one for my husband (big and meaty – the food; not hubby). And by the time each meal is ready, there is not much time for chatter.
So one the rare evenings when we are all eating THE SAME THING, it’s nice to enjoy the time to catch up.
So back to the conversation.
My son, who has just started school this year (he is 6), was regaling us with a list of girls at his school that are in love with him.
“Kate* loves me, but I don’t love her.”
“Sarah* loves me, but I don’t love her.”
“Emma* loves me. She always wants to hug me when I fall down and cry.”
I asked: “Do you sometimes fall down and pretend to cry for hugs?”
And my son answered: “Nah, I cry for love.”
Romantic or playboy? I’ll have wait to wait a few years to find out!
*Names have been changed to protect the sweetly innocent.