My two-year old daughter’s like most two-year olds, never happier than when she’s pulling toys and books off shelves and cupboards and leaving the place looking like a hurricane’s ripped through it.
It’s normally books like Peppa Pig, Spot the Dog and Meg & Mog that she picks but every now and then down comes my copy of The Money Diet.
I usually point out that it’s Uncle Martin’s book.
However, her godfather is a very much loved Uncle Mick. She regularly wanders around the house saying “Uncle Mick” and asking to see him. (I’m pretty sure it’s not just because Uncle Mick and Auntie Isobel have two of the cutest, friendliest, lickable dogs around – yes they lick her and she licks them back!).
She’s obviously met Martin, when she was younger, and does watch him on TV now and then – she even copied him parrot fashion when he was on GMTV a few days ago, saying “numbers”.
So when she pulled The Money Diet down today and I said “that’s Uncle Martin’s book”, she said “yes, that’s right, Uncle Mick’s book”!
Sorry Martin!
