|Youngest (Circa 1998)|
She: And my middle name is in honour of her?"
Me (stunned): Good Lord, no. No, you're named in honour of Flora Margarine, y'know, the substitute spread for butter?"
She (frowning): Come again?
Me (laughing): Oh, it's a looong story..
She (suspicious): You serious?
Me: Well yeah, I am. See Flora Margarine sponsored the London Marathon that year.
She: I'm not with you.
Me: That was the first marathon your dad ever ran.
Me: Um. That's why your dad decided to postpone the vasectomy he'd previously booked until after the race. He had a change of heart, didn't think it wise to have all his manly bits interfered with only just one short week before the off, and all ..
She (spluttering): WHAT??
Me (sweetly innocent): What?
She: You telling me I was a mistake??????
Me (trying not to dig too deep a hole): Don't be daft, course not, nah, why you, you my darling were er, well lets just say - more of a lovely surprise, that's all.
She: Oh, that's charming, that is. Not only was I not wanted, you only have to go and name me after a big, fat greasy tub of lard, as well.
Me: Rubbish, it's only we never knew how much we wanted you until you arrived, and I'll have you know, I am actually, personally very, very grateful to that Margarine company, so there! You should take it as a compliment..
She (spinning on her heel): I do not need to hear this.
Me (exasperated, calling after her): You were the one who asked!
Honestly, hard as I try, I will never understand kids.