We wrapped ourselves up in autumnal scarves and boarded the train after school. I stared into space while my baby teenager aged six and one month pretended he wasn’t with me because he didn’t like my hat.
At Central Station, Liverpool we disembarked and I bought his friendship with a Thorntons pumpkin lollipop and he insisted I remove my crocheted black beret and be like all the other Mummy’s currently to be seen sporting tatty Amy beehives around town. So I shoved the hat in my
Then we skipped next door to
And so because I am the kind of Mummy who likes to do as she is told, that is what we did, and ten minutes later found ourselves sitting in some very fancy schmancy Big Brother style chairs in Mcdonalds, me with an “M” burger and him with two bags of chips in a Happy Meal box which is sadly the only viable option for a Celiac kid in said den of culinary inequity. But he doesn’t care and it’s the experience that counts, even if your Mum has dragged her silly hat back on to attend the cinema with the six foot four one, who took one look at said hat and declared a sudden yearning for a cup of
Ha ha bloody ha. They are ganging up on me Housekeepers. Is it any wonder I felt obliged to eat all the popcorn in revenge?