We were all sitting 'round the luncheon table in Stratford today, my mother having concocted a feast of pancakes with maple syrup and Canadian bacon, fresh from the local farmer's market.
I had spent the nearly three-hour car ride (through rush-hour traffic on Friday afternoon) whipping the girlies into shape... All three had been warned to be on their very best-est behavior, for the benefit of my overly-generous and long-suffering parents, who are hosting us for the weekend.
Having crammed themselves with as many pancakes as was "safe", their skins feeling sufficiently tight, Child Number Two and Wee Three were slightly taken aback when in response to their request to be excused from the table, my mother placed a banana in front of each of them for dessert:
Wee Three: (glowering blackly at the fruit) YUCK.
Child Number Two: (horrified by her little sister's lack of table manners) No, sweetie... You're supposed to say, "Yuck, PLEASE".
I must be doing something right with these kids... I'm just not exactly sure what...