Myself, my other half and my son went round to the mother-in-laws for a coffee this afternoon.
Whilst there, while I was making drinks in the kitchen, my other half calls me through to the living room and tells me, "I taught our son to say I love you!", to which I came back with the theoretically funny, "He already does say that, just not to you!"
Get it? I made the joke that my son loved me more.
Okay, it was the best joke I could think of at the time.
She continues, "No, he does, look!". She turned to our little one.
"I love you." she told him. He turned from his television programme, smiled, and said "I love you." to his mother, before turning back.
Obviously I needed to prove that I am also worthy of my sons affection, so I knelt down at the other side of him, and said "I love you."
He glances at me and the bottle of semi-skimmed in my hand, and tells me "Want milk."
And then goes back to watching Squiglet.
Supermarkets are cunning, aren't they? I only realised today one of their evil plans.
Bags for life.
The idea makes sense, of course. If you pay a few pence, you get a better quality, stronger bag, that you can re-use. It's better for the environment than continually getting new bags and throwing the old ones away.
And they tempt you to get them by promising that if you return the bag when it's worn out, you get a new one, free of charge.
Of course the reality is that they know that they are dealing with British people here.
See this bag?
My gran has been using this to store her recycling in, and empties it when full into her recycling bin.
Would you really want to go into Waitrose with a bag with a massive hole in, that the inside of which is stained from the contents of not quite empty bottles leaking out, and one of the handles is a bit sticky, give the cashier it and request a replacement?
Of course not. So you go and buy another one.
Sneaky sneaky supermarkets.