I bought my grandson a torch yesterday.
Little Miss Prim (daughter) and Son Outlaw went out to a charity do last night so T arrived at 6.15. Grandad and I took him to Hobson’s Choice – a quite nice family pub where you get two meals for a tenner. The torch came too. T and I went to order the meals. The torch came too. In the queue he got talking to a little girl and they toddled over to acquaint themselves with a cheerful snowman in the corner. The torch went too.
Halfway through our meal T wanted a wee. The torch went too. Two hours (yes, I kid you not – two hours) later, the man came and cleared away T’s chicken nuggets. He said to T – this will all have to go in the bin now because you haven’t eaten it. Grandad said “yes and that blasted torch will go too.”
Later, T had his bath. The torch had one too. He had his bot-bot which Granny had to hold for him because the torch was right there waiting for its share.
I said, “go and choose a book for your story.” The torch went too. I read a story to the torch about penguins pulling Santa’s sleigh because the reindeer had flu.
As I tucked the torch in bed, Tyler went too. Peeping round the door ten minutes later the rude torch flashed at me right in my face! Half an hour later T was fast asleep and the batteries in the torch were too.