Craic On

“Let’s go to the supermarket and buy oats so we can make flapjacks,” I proposed. The Grand moved like grease lightening. I think it a prerequisite that any trip to the shops should be made fully clothed and in shoes. Sensing that I was unlikely to yield on this point he sat down, stuck his foot out and handed me a shoe. “Hold Granny’s hand” the DiL instructed. He nodded. “Hold my hand and don’t let go,” I reinforced. At the end of the road, I flicked open the cane ready for crossing. The Grand used his free hand to grip the cane. ”Hoover” he said. His day was getting better by the minute. We stood on the side of the road while the Grand made groaning noises and mimed a bit of hoovering. “Let go please,” I said, then instantly regretted my instruction. He’d let go of me before he’d give up his hoover. “Keep holding my hand,” I said. Perhaps this would be the moment when his toddler bubble burst and he realised the inconsistencies of adults. He looked thoughtful but gripped harder. We’d been in the supermar