Overheard, from the front room:

“Can you get our sweet day sweets when you go out Dad?”
“No. You had them yesterday.”
“No we didn’t! We didn’t get any in the end!”
“Oh.”
“And we haven’t had them for weeks.”
“Tom, we’re like getting a bit old for “sweet day sweets” bro…”
“I’m THIRTEEN!”
“Well it ain’t “sweet day” now.”
“You’re 19 and saying we’re too old for sweets when you had them till you were at least 16???”
“Yeah. Well, come on, you did get a lot of added benefits being the youngest…”
“Yeah, like playing ’15’ games when you’re only THIRTEEN..”
“Yeah! And the rest!”
“WHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAA…”
“Er, what you doing Tom?”
“I need some tears.”
“Eh, what?”
“WHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA… I need to test my tears.”
“What?”
“I need to test my tears for sweet stuff. Kids’ tears should taste like jelly beans. And sweet stuff.”
“Eh?”
“Not vegetables.”

Hilarious.

But I’m right back with Willy Wonka… singing Pure Imagination.

Unashamedly.