Eldest child hates fancy dress. It makes him self-conscious. He prefers looking like a regular five-year-old boy. His mother loves it. Loves it with a serious and abiding passion. And I’m not fussy – from supermarket ready-made costumes to intricate hand-crafted ensembles – if it’s fancy, it’s in. We are like chalk and cheese on this issue. But I am the adult. And I am the one who knows the good parking spot near the fancy dress shop. Occasionally I exert my frivolous will on my poor, defenceless child. His school’s recent Dahlicious Dress Up Day was a perfect opportunity. The children could dress as a character from their favourite Roald Dahl book. We’ve only read two: Fantastic Mr Fox and The BFG. ‘Do you want to be a fox?’ I asked tentatively, smiling over-enthusiastically. Smelling my fear he answered with a defiant ‘No’. ‘Ok, the BFG it is then. He […]
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