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He’s going to be a barrister

My son, wearing my outsized watch on his tiny wrist, showing the family trait of eloquent argument.

Dad: “Right, time for a bath.”

Grifflet: “No Daddy, I’m having a little play.”

“It’s time for a bath.  What time is it?”

“Look at my watch, Daddy.”

“Is that your watch?  I though it’s my watch.”

“No, it’s my watch, Daddy.”

“OK.  What time is it?”

“Quarter past.”

“I’ve looked at my watch and it says it’s time for a bath.”

“You haven’t got a watch on, Dad.”

“Yes, I have.

“No, you haven’t, Dad.”

“Is that because you’re wearing my watch?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“What time is it?”

“Quarter past time to have a play.”

You’re never going to win this one rhetorically.  Fortunately he fits under my arm,.

Grifflet in full flow

Personal views of a wordsmithing, sartorialist, horn-playing, state school Oxonian dad, rugby ref, recovering politico, and fan of vintage tailoring, Ralph Lauren style, and sharp writing.

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