Thing One just made some customary smart-alec remark to Himself, for which Himself awarded her 'the prize' of clearing the table. Thing One gathered everyone around and made a very pretty acceptance speech, culminating in the words "I feel unworthy to be awarded such a prize, so I would like to donate it to my beloved father". And neatly boxed him into clearing the darn table alone.
Today we have had a very lazy Saturday, mooching around in PJs and watching a Harry Potter marathon. We are up to Goblet of Fire so far. Thing One and Thing Two made a sign, some tickets and money, posted a comprehensive list of rules (to wit: no yucky stuff like kissing) and turned the sitting room into a cinema, The Stardust Bunny Cinema or something. Then they had the gall to charge their father and I admittance!
I got my own back. I brought dinner in, and charged them a tenner each! Hah!
Thing Two batted her eyelashes at Himself. The Bunny Mascot is coming to the cinema, Daddy. Would you like an autograph? Himself fell, hook, line and sinker. Took the autograph. That'll be £20 please, Daddy. Grr. They'll go far, my little entrepreneurs.
Oh. Just quickly. Thing One found a rather nice velvet box, containing a pen Himself had bought me for Christmas. (Don't ask me why the box still contains the pen, in a house where we can never ever find anything to write with. It has nothing to do with any bitterness on unwrapping a blue velvet jewellery box on Christmas morning and finding a sodding pen in it. Really.)
Thing One sank to one knee in front of me. I would like to ask you a life-changing question, she says. Mother, will you... (leans forward, opens box) ...be my pen-pal? Oh har-de-har-har.