It’s 7.40 am on a Saturday. We’re in the kitchen, K is having the usual blueberry pancakes and C, his tea. I’ve been privileged enough to be invited by K to sit next to him. Usually I get relegated to the black chair in the corner because his papa gets priority seating.
He spotted a £5 note on the table.
K: “Whooose money is this?”
Me: “Papa’s”
K: “Whyyy?”
We ignore some whys now.
K: “Who is this on the money?
Is it Papa?
He looks like Papa.
He has the same face.
Only his glasses are missing.
Who is it, Mama?”
Me as I look at C: “It’s Churchill”
