Daddy, can I ask you something. Something serious?
My fork paused mid-delivery to my mouth.
Fuck?! What was this. Can't a man just have his dinner in peace? Slowly I put my fork back on my plate and gave the Little Lady one of those lying-happy-parent smiles.
Of course you can my darling. You can ask me anything!
I glanced over at the Good Lady for a raising eyebrow high-five at what an awesome parent I was.
The Good Lady smiled back, her eyes shining with happiness at being the lady of a man who can.
Can I take the day off school tomorrow to go on a protest march organised by Greta Thunberg?
A silence descended upon the table. A brooding awful silence as if a large mythical bird had flown into the room and did a big leathery shit on the table.
I beg your pardon? Can you what what what?!
My fork, which had been celebrating being raised up with some food to my mouth clanged back onto my plate.
What the fuck was going on? Who the fuck let Greta Thunberg into my house? Was my house now woke? Can you catch woke? Should I get tested?
These and other questions raced through my mind.
Do you have to wear clean underpants every day? Can you not just beat them with a toffeehammer and fling the same pair back on?
The Little Lady leaned forward and fluttered her bewitching eyes.
Please Daddy? Pleeeeeease. Its a once in a lifetime opportunity. Please let me go marching?!
Her bottom lip trembled like Aceh Rice pudding.
No. Absolutely not. You have School. You can't just stay off school on a whim to go eat fondue with mad Swiss folk?!
My eyes rolled so hard they became honorary members of the HashKings tribe.
Daddy, please! It's COP26. This is IMPORTANT! We are trying to save the world. You old people don't get it. This is about my children and my children's children?!
The Little Lady slammed her hand down hard onto the table.
I noticed the Good Lady staring at me coldly as if I were a bloated corpse washed up on a beach.
I was baffled, what had I done wrong? Didn't School matter anymore? What were we meant to tell them? Sorry, our daughter can't come in today, she is going on a march with Greta Thunberg?
Christ, what would the crazies of Hive think if they found out I was harbouring Greta sympathisers in my house? Maybe they would try to get me evicted from the Cabal?
Hey, why am I the bad guy? I just don't want her to miss school and go on a protest where she gets kettled and tear-gassed. Is that so wrong?
I didn't mention that there were bound to be hundreds of unwashed hippies braiding their beards and eating vegan cheese. For whatever reason, the Good Lady seemed to be on the side of the hippies these days.
Perhaps she had always been a hippy and I hadn't noticed because of the sex. Shit, if she became a protester would we still be able to have sex? Do protesters make sweet love to their partners or just wave placards and protest about having it?
The Good Lady interrupted my musings by loudly taking a deep breath.
Daddy-Bear. It's her right to protest. I say we should let her. In fact, how dare we stand in her way?
She gave me that look, the one that says, stop stroking our neighbour's cat so suggestively when it curls around your legs as you get out of the car.
She's only 8 years old? Come on, this is MADNESS?!
I looked around for a Persian to kick into a deep hole but there wasn't one.
I will take her. She will be fine.
The Little Lady let out a cheer at her Mummy's pronouncement.
I sat there, slightly confused.
Why did you even ask me if it was a done deal?
I eventually sputtered.
The pair of protesters looked at me pityingly.
We had hoped you would say yes, but we knew you would say no.
The Good Lady sighed as if I had failed yet another vital test.
Oh, ok. Well, erm. Enjoy your protest then. Don't let that Greta one lead you astray, I ain't bailing you out of jail.
The two of them ran off in delight shouting about making placards.
I looked down at my now cold dinner.
Fucking Greta.