David was not at all impressed that his Friday night was to be ruined by a) his mothers presence and b) his mothers cooking. "I wanted an Indian takeaway!" he said when I rang him to tell him that she was rummaging around the fridge. "Well, I think she's planning on a roast" I whispered as I watched her slam the beef I'd bought for Sunday lunch onto the chopping board.
Still. Mac's happy his Granny is here. But then a four year old would be quite happy with the prospect of unlimited sugar, junk food, rubbish television, backchat and the knowledge that if he says "I want it", Granny will get it for him.
"Now listen to me" I said to him in a vaguely threatening tone as he looked for his Bob The Builder DVD. "Yes mummy?" said my angelic child, head tilted to one side and pensive look on his face. "Granny will attempt to undermine my authority by filling you with sweets and crisps and fizzy pop and will give you everything you ask for. This isn't right Mackenzie, in fact it's very wrong and naughty of Granny to do this when she knows that you can't have any of these things. And it's not nice because in a way she's being mean to mummy by doing this. So. When Granny offers you sweets or crisps or lemonade or agrees to buy you whatever you want what do you say?"
"Please Granny, thank you" he answered.
It's my fault. I pitched it wrong.