A Year And a Half Ago.
To be fair, since I moved out and now just visit it's been more love than anything.
I am having a disagreement with my six-year-old daughter. I forget what it was now, but it has incurred her displeasure.
Favourite Daughter: I’m going to tell Mummy on you.
Me: Go on then. I don’t mind.
FD: [Upping her game] I’ll tell Mrs. Teacher on you.
Me: Do it. She’s not MY teacher. I don’t care.
I’m faintly surprised that she feels that her teacher is a larger threat to me than her mother but whatever.
FD: Right. I’m going to tell Mr. Headmaster on you.
Me: Fill your boots. I couldn’t care less.
I can sense her frustration and anger building.
FD: I’m going to tell the Person In Charge Of The Whole World on you!
Theoretically she would have me with this one. Who am I against the Person In Charge Of The Whole World? No-one.
Fortunately for me, she has no idea what she’s banging on about. I’ve won this one.
Me: Oh yes? And who is that?
FD: [Steely eyed. She’s not backing-down any more than I am. She’s on the ropes and she knows it] GEORGE STEPHENSON!
She’s FUCKING GOT ME.
I genuinely don’t know what to say.
Alright, he invented the first miner’s lamps and the fucking steam engine and all sorts of other things and he lived round here, but really. HE’S NOT IN CHARGE OF………
Favourite Daughter sees me struggle for a moment and smiles to herself.
Whatever the disagreement was she knows she’s won.