Sorry. Had grand plans, but kids are being… well… kids.
Boo hiss. Don’t worry, though, I’ll ruin your fun when you’re 15 and you want to go to a party at some random beach with a bunch of good-for-nothings whose mothers I don’t know and/or don’t trust.
And when you cry and scream that I’m horrible and unfair, that all you wanted was one small moment of fun and that I am denying you even that; when you wail that I’m ruining your life and that you’ll never forgive me as long as you live, I’ll smile and reply, “Have a read of this, my lovely, and it will all become clear.”
That’s right. I’ll point you to this very post where I cry and scream that you are being horrible and unfair, that all I wanted was one small moment of fun and that you are denying me even that, and despite all this you have not ruined my life because in the end I will forgive you everything as long as I live.
Because I love you, you little monster.
More than I love writing… (but only just!).
Over and out.