Early this morning my mum arrived at the lair to drop off something. Over breakfast Fat Sister, who’s getting married later this year, started discussing plans for the flooring in their new home. Despite being an architect our dad’s reluctant to get involved with this. The following conversation unfolded:
Fat Sister: Dad signed up for advising on flooring 25 years ago when I was born.
Mum: I’m not sure he’d agree with you.
I then looked at mum and ticced, “He put his willy in you.”
That’s not something any of us needed to be thinking about that early in the morning.