We took the girls camping to Brittany this summer. Despite driving through England on the two hottest days of the year in a car with broken air conditioning we had a wonderful time.
I live in mortal fear of people telling me about their holidays. Equally I dread being made to describe mine so let me share one moment that felt like it defined the whole thing.
We were lucky enough to have camped next to a couple with a daughter whose age fell exactly between L's and S's. A friendship soon developed. As you'll know by now there is a degree of eccentricity in my girl's world view but this little girl was a special and endearing sort of bonkers.
L was enchanted but S seemed to regard it as something of a challenge.
One day we were standing outside the tent talking to her parents whilst the three girls played inside together.
After a while L and her new friend came out of the tent to report that S had called the other girl, "poo poo." Clearly I was expected to act.
"S," I said, weakly, "That's a really nasty thing to say to anyone, say sorry please."
She did not look up. In fact she concentrated very hard on the toy she was playing with and, with an intent look on her face said, very slowly, "I have lots of plans."
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