‘Wagon?’ She raises her eyes hopefully.
What?
‘We’re not getting the wagon, darling,’ I say patiently. ‘You wanted the pony. The lovely pony, remember?’
Minnie surveys the pony with total indifference. ‘Wagon.’
‘Pony!’ I grab the pony off the floor.
This is so frustrating. How can she be so fickle? She definitely gets that trait from Mum.
‘Wagon!’
‘Pony!’ I cry, more loudly than I meant to, and brandish the pony at her. ‘I want the poneee—’
Suddenly I get a prickly-neck feeling. I look round to see the woman with toddler boys, standing a few yards away, staring at me with her pebble-like eyes.
‘I mean …’ I hastily lower the pony, my cheeks burning. ‘Yes, you may buy the pony out of your pocket money. Basic financial planning,’ I add briskly to the pebble-eyed woman. ‘What we learned today is that you have to save up before you can buy things, didn’t we, darling? Minnie’s spent all her pocket money on the pony, and it was a very good choice …’
‘I’ve found the other pony!’ The assistant suddenly appears again, breathless and carrying a dusty box. ‘I knew we had one left in the stock room. They were originally a pair, you see …’
There’s another pony?
I can’t help gasping as she draws it out. It’s midnight blue with a raven mane, speckled with stars, and with golden wheels. It’s absolutely stunning. It complements the other one perfectly. Oh God, we have to have them both. We have to.
Rather annoyingly, the pebble-eyed woman is still standing there with her buggy, watching us.
‘Shame you’ve spent all your pocket money, isn’t it?’ she says to Minnie with one of those tight, unfriendly smiles which proves she never has any fun or sex. You can always tell that about people, I find.
‘Yes, isn’t it?’ I say politely. ‘That’s a problem. So we’ll just have to think of a solution.’ I think hard for a moment, then turn to Minnie.
‘Darling, here’s your second important lesson in financial planning. Sometimes, when we see an amazing, one-off bargain, we can make an exception to the saving-up rule. It’s called “Seizing the Opportunity”.’
‘You’re just going to buy it?’ says the woman in tones of disbelief.
What business is it of hers? God, I hate other mothers. They always have to butt in. The minute you have a child it’s as if you’ve turned into a box on an internet site, saying ‘Please add all your rude and offensive comments here.’
‘Of course I’m not going to buy it,’ I say, a little stonily. ‘She’ll have to get it out of her own pocket money. Darling,’ I crouch down to get Minnie’s attention, ‘if you pay for the other pony out of your pocket money at 50p a week, it’ll take about … sixty weeks. You’ll have to have an advance. Like an “overdraft”.’ I enunciate clearly. ‘So you’ll basically have spent all your pocket money till you’re three and a half. All right?’
Minnie looks a bit bewildered. But then, I expect I looked a bit bewildered when I took out my first overdraft. It goes with the territory.
‘All sorted.’ I beam at the assistant and hand over my Visa card. ‘We’ll take both ponies, thank you. You see, darling?’ I add to Minnie. ‘The lesson we’ve learned today is: never give up on something you really want. However impossible things seem, there’s always a way.’
I can’t help feeling proud of myself, imparting this nugget of wisdom. That’s what parenting’s all about. Teaching your child the ways of the world.
‘You know, I once found the most amazing opportunity,’ I add as I punch in my PIN. ‘It was a pair of Dolce & Gabbana boots at 90 per cent off! Only my credit card was up to my limit. But did I give up? No! Of course I didn’t!’
Minnie is listening as avidly as though I’m recounting The Three Bears.
‘I went round my flat, and searched in all my pockets and bags, and I collected up all my little coins … and guess what?’ I pause for effect. ‘I had enough money! I could get the boots! Hooray!’
Minnie claps her hands, and to my delight, the toddler boys start cheering raucously.
‘Do you want to hear another story?’ I beam at them. ‘Do you want to hear about the sample sale in Milan? I was walking along the street one day, when I saw this mysterious sign.’ I open my eyes wide. ‘And what do you think it said?’
‘Ridiculous.’ The pebble-eyed woman turns her buggy with an abrupt gesture. ‘Come on, it’s time to go home.’
‘Story!’ wails one of the boys.
‘We’re not hearing the story,’ she snaps. ‘You’re insane,’ she adds over her shoulder as she strides off. ‘No wonder your child’s so spoiled. What are those little shoes of hers then, Gucci?’
Spoiled?
Blood zings to my face and I stare at her in speechless shock. Where did that come from? Minnie is not spoiled!
And Gucci don’t even make shoes like that.
‘She’s not spoiled!’ I manage at last.
But the woman has already disappeared behind the Postman Pat display. Well, I’m certainly not going to run after her and yell, ‘At least my child doesn’t just loll in her buggy sucking her thumb all day, and by the way, have you ever thought about wiping your children’s noses?’
Because that wouldn’t be a good example to Minnie.