The puppies are evil. Or at least that’s what Flea tells me.
I had a coffee this week with my friend Louise. She was showing me a note that her four-year-old had left on her dressing table. In childish script, he’d painstakingly written, “To Mummy, I love you, From Harrison xxxxxXXXxxx”
Bless, so cute.
I love when kids do things like that.
Only this weekend, for example, Flea handed me a note she’d written over dinner while we were in Pizza Express.
Here it is:
(For the benefit of those not familiar with the hieroglyphics that pass for handwriting when you’re five it says: To Mum , the puppies are evil. Flea.)
Nope, I’ve no idea, either.
I stuck it on the fridge alongside Flea’s drawing of “The mad scientist who makes the world turn grey”.
