A blustery, sun-kissed winter afternoon..She and I take the back streets home from the dentist…..Wind and water in my eyes… 

Daughter: Are you crying?

Me: Don’t be silly

Daughter: You’re crying.

Me: No…I’m not crying…It’s cold..

Daughter: You’re crying.

Me: Oh for godsakes!!.

Daughter: You’re a crier mum.

Later that evening…..she enters the kitchen in search of food…

Daughter: What you making ?

Me: Pasta and Quorn mince..

She dips a fork in the saucepan, scowls and adds a ridiculous amount of salt…

Daughter: Are you crying now?

Me: Can you..stop!

Daughter: Just asking…because you cry at everything

Me: That’s not true ..

Daughter: It is mum..

Me: I cry at things that are moving..

Daughter: And you cry at things that aren’t…

Me: No I don’t…

At this point my daughter does a bizarre movement from one end of the kitchen to the other..takes an awkward step to the left.. ..a peculiar step to the right…followed by a wild body shake..

Daughter: Look mum, me…moving

I cry…because I’m laughing so much.. Suddenly she is utterly still, her head tilted to one side … her huge brown eyes staring at me woefully like Shrek’s Puss in Boots …Laughing so much…… I cry……

Daughter: I rest my case.