Ivy’s Nanna takes a certain age-old pleasure in finding small ways to torment her son-in-law. On a recent 6-hour car trip we stopped at McDonalds to break the drive. Nanna was delighted to teach Ivy how to say ‘Donald’s!’ to Daddy when she got home.
Imagine his joy to find his firstborn had been indoctrinated into the cult of Ronald.
Last week I had to drive both puppies across town in a heat wave, for an hour, at dinner time. There was only one place to stop. I was desperately careful never to tell Ivy where we were. There was a window, some chips came through it, and away we went. Ivy happily chomped away in the back seat.
‘Ivy’s a-eating chips!’ she cried happily in her Italian accent.
‘Yummy!’ I said. ‘Just some chips! Nothing special!’
A while later, Ivy started inspecting the box. ‘That’s a-Donald,’ I heard her murmur.
‘Ivy’s a-eating chips. That’s a-Donald. Ivy’s a-eating chips.’
‘Ivy’s a-eating Donald’s! Ivy’s a-eating Donald’s!’
Sprung consorting with evil multi-nationals again. Keith will give me that look. The one that says he isn't angry. Just disappointed.