We’re sitting in the car. We’ve been sitting in the car for four hours, and the toddler is getting quite bored of this situation.
We are playing a version of “I spy” that fits an almost-two-year-old understanding of how things work, where one person names things and then the other people shout when they see that thing.
“Excellent! Now, what about a red car? First one to see a red car…”
“Ok, that was possibly too easy. You think of one?”
“There are no purple signs, Doozer. There are lots of different colours of road signs, but not… I mean, there haven’t been any purple signs, have there, so we’ll be waiting an awfully long time if you really only want to see a… actually that’s not a bad idea. Ok! Even though there are no such things as purple roadsigns, the first person to spot a purple sign wi…”
We round another corner in the forest. Ahead, suddenly, tucked into a small town on the way up the mountain, is a large, purple sign.
“Pupplesyne!” shouts the toddler, contentedly.
We sit in the front, look at each other, then back at the sign.
“PSYCHIC”, says the sign, in big black letters on a rich purple background.
An ominous fanfare fills the car.
Well, no, it doesn’t, but it would have been cool if it did.
I should carry around an ominious fanfare band for precisely this kind of situation.