You know, it’s possible there are worse things for your ego than the well-meant comments of your offspring, but I have yet to discover them.
“You look good, Mum,” the ducklings said when I appeared in a new outfit the other day.
“Almost like a teenager,” says Demon Duck, who is a generous, if misguided, soul.
“Except for your hair,” says Drama Duck, surveying me with the critical eye of a ten-year-old fashion guru.
“Why? Can you see the grey?”
“No, it’s just a bit short. Teenagers have long hair, and you don’t, so you look old.”
My expression must have clued Demon Duck in to the fact that her sister isn’t exactly winning any prizes for flattery here.
“But the dress is beautiful,” she says, clearly eager to make up for her sister’s shortcomings. “It’s not fair, you know. I wish they made dresses like that for kids, but they don’t. They’re only for elderly people.”