“Mummy why has that man/lady/baby got brown skin?”
And you answer without a moment’s hesitation with a brief explanation about the world and all the wonderful people in it and you smile graciously at the man/lady/baby and they smile back with a look that suggests they’ve heard this question many times before (possibly not the baby).
It happened with Eliza in Sainsbury’s a couple of years ago and with Tilly today in the carpark at Sainsbury’s (clearly it’s a favourite destination of ours). On answering her question with the usual answer she declared:
“I’m from Wales actually Mummy.” (really? first I’ve heard).
“No you’re not.” quick as a shot comes Eliza’s put down.
“Yes I am, Daddy said.” Yet more news to me.
“Did he? Well I think you’re more of a Midlands/Kent mix actually Tilly.” (not that I have anything against Wales you understand.)
“No Mummy I’m from Wales. Daddy said.”
“Right, ok.”
Sometimes it’s best to leave it.
