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On Friday, Rose invites Sophie and I around to the house. We arrive at eight, armed with some fancy wine Dad handed us from his cellar. Unsurprisingly, it’s Rose who answers the door. Crawford’s there, too, talking like he’s done ten lines of cocaine.
‘Unco Tom, you missed what happened today because I was at the table with the naked sand and I was making a big cake and then I gave it to Mummy and I said “eat a bit of this cake” and she did, she ate a bit, but it was really yucky because it was made of the naked sand!’
‘Kinetic sand,’ Rose says, ‘It’s called kinetic sand.’
But Crawford’s way too wired to listen. ‘And then after lunch Mummy was changing Ellie’s nappy and we took Ellie’s nappy off and Ellie farted and a poo fell out and went on the floor!’
‘Darling,’ Rose interrupts, ‘I’m not sure everyone likes that story as much as you do.’
Perhaps not, but it’s absolutely slayed Crawford, who’s laughing so hard that he’s having to gasp between phrases. ‘And… and it was… so smelly… Mummy had to… open the window!
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