We have a few rules in our good home. One of the more sacred is that Mum Does Not Do Mornings. For six days of the week, the Good Man gets up at 7am and takes the wee 'un downstairs for her breakfast. Unfair, you say? Well, we've calculated that it is exactly six times harder for me to get out of bed so, actually, it's a mathematical solution.
However, on Sundays, the rules are reversed and I do the morning run. The wee 'un and I have our own traditions. We eat our oats and then throw on our coats for a bracing stroll to the corner shop for the Sunday Times. We both love this newspaper. It's the only one with enough colourful inserts to allow the wee 'un her own pile of paper to 'read'. She spends her morning creating fabulous stories from the pictures in the magazines, and I mainline coffee until the articles in the main section start to come into focus.
Today's edition included an insert on the Rich List - the 1000 wealthiest people in Britain and Ireland. To make the grade you have to hold a fortune of at least £70 million. It is also sorted into subcategories - young stinking wealthy Brits, loaded lasses, Scottish, Irish, Welsh etc. But my favourite sub-category is the 'Billion pound giveaway', because, as any child of Africa will tell you, no one needs £70 million pounds. And there are some really generous kazillionaires out there donating large chunks of their amassed wealth to a variety of causes throughout the world.
Then the good man emerged from his Sunday snooze. His approach to this insert was different. He handed it directly to the wee 'un with the instruction to look for inspiration. Or a husband.
As long as she shares I will not complain.