D turned 75 last week.
Me: What should we buy D for her birthday?
Ella: What about… a baby?
Every 75yo’s dream of course.
Lady at the shop: How old is she?
Me: Ella, how old are you?
Me: Not yet. When will you be three?
Ella: On my birthday.
Ella: No, I want to wear the green pants today.
Me: If you insist, but they’re a bit big for you.
I think they’re for fat girls. And you are not fat, are you?
But you are fat, mummy.
Me: I’m not fat!
Ella: Yes you are fat! (Trying to wrap her arms around me) Because I cannot carry you.
(For those who don’t know me, I’m not exactly what you’d call overweight.)