Daughter: Can you bring me back some pasta?
Once upon a time she was five, the epitome of cute..play and pasta were her world..
Daughter: Sorry, did I stutter?
No longer five..no longer cute..
Me: I’m going to Spain.
Daughter: And your point is?
Me: Spain..the land of Paella, Patatas Bravas, Tortilla Espanola.
Daughter: You’ve lost me.
Me: Churros, Turron..
Daughter: I’d like some pasta…preferably cooked.
Just plain bizarre..
Daughter: A generous serving, with plenty of sauce, would be appreciated.
Me: I’m pretty sure they’d confiscate it at the airport.
Daughter: Have you tried before?
Me: Of course I haven’t.
Daughter: So how do you know?
There simply are no words..