MUM’S THE WORD

“I’m glad we’re home, you’re so much less annoying here,” says Youngest Child. This is news. Not that I’m annoying, but that I’m somehow less annoying at home.

I’ve just treated her to a minibreak abroad, OK, a night in Perthshire, and I thought we’d had a lovely time but it turns out I’ve been a huge irritation.

“So, what’s so annoying about me on holiday?” I ask.

“Well, you like to go for walks,” she rolls her eyes. “And you read all the signs in those boring places you like to visit. And you ask questions. Nobody else asked any questions at the distillery. It was embarrassing. And annoying.”

“I’m very sorry,” I lie. “I thought my questions were helpful for everyone.”

“No. Everyone just wanted you to shut up so they could get round quick and get their free drink.”

“Fine. I won’t take you abro… to Perthshire again. And how am I annoying at home?”

“OMG. Sooo many things. OK. The way you put peas on my plate and then say, ‘would you like peas?’ And the way you talk to my friends, asking them questions, about school and things. And the way you exaggerate, especially in your column. In fact, that’s the most annoying thing. You’re only making me list these things now so you can put them in your column. Aren’t you?”

“No, not at all,” I say with a hurt look. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

“How am I annoying at home?” “OMG. Sooo many things”