Brain hurts. It is vexed by important philosophical question, as asked by Millie. Not usual one to do with death. Or chickens. This one is more complicated. And possibly ickier. It is: What is the point of boys? It is because at age of five Millie has apparently already decided to shun swarthier sex and opt for big gay wedding:
Millie: I am not ever never getting married except to Katherine. We will live with you mummy.
Me: Super. I can hardly wait.
Millie: Because boys is horrid.
Katherine: Boys is coming. Run away from your life.
Millie: Yes because they will hit you like mad.
Katherine: Where is mad?
(Then ensues wedding in the den, involving wearing half of hedge on head and dancing in tutus to the theme from the Mister Men).
All of which is very progressive. Though not the bit where Katherine did a wee during ceremony or demanded that I do “alien sick”. Do not think even the gayest of weddings would welcome that. But, still, surely there is a point to boys. Apart from the obvious. But Millie not keen on having babies either. She says she will adopt an orphan and has already chosen it from the Boden catalogue. It will reside with me, her and Katherine and live on a diet of porridge. Which, frankly, sounds like version of hell. So have told her boys are actually magic. Plus they can open jars. It’s a start.