"Hey mum, you know what lazy people do all day?" my four-year-old daughter asked me, in the early hours of yesterday morning. Standing behind me in the bathroom, on her little white stool, while I brushed my teeth.
I turned around to face her. She's not seriously about to call me I'm lazy is she? I thought. My face somewhere between shocked and scowling. Lazy "every day"? Four years into the grinding sleeptax of having her and her one-year-old sister, who was sleeping because they now swap off who gets up at 5am and demands a banana and then a book and then full breakfast and who goes back to bed.
She looked so casual at that moment and amused. Everything but picking her teeth.
"What!" I said. More than asked her. "What are you talking about?"
"They stand around looking at themselves naked in the mirror to see if they're getting fat," she said.
"I've got to watch what I say around that kid," my husband said later that evening.
