“May I have some of this Hot Chocolate, please?” asks Stephanie, pointing to the luxury Hot Chocolate (bought only because it was on a really good special offer).
“No.” Mother of the Year (that’s me) says. “That’s for special occasions.” (Yes, special occasions. Like when you younger people have gone to bed and I can have a cup of luxury hot chocolate in peace).
“OhhhhOohhhOhh!” says Stephanie, in whiney voice. (How would you write that to indicate a whiney voice anyhow?).
Mother of the Year almost feels bad.
But not quite. (Have you gathered that I have given myself the MOTY title with my tongue firmly in my cheek?).
“You can have the cheap hot chocolate.” I offer graciously. (Ah, now you get it!)
“The cheap one?!” Stephanie is horrified at the thought of cheap hot chocolate. (The hot chocolate which is fine for consumption on any other given day yet is suddenly akin to drinking bleach when there’s a luxury version in front of her).
Stephanie continues making her cheap hot chocolate. Then with a narrowing of her eyes and a pout she walks past me and mutters…
“And YOU get the cheap nursing home!”.