Brunch...
The things with kids - at least non-Nigerian ones, if my experience was indicative - is that they do not hesitate to call BS-ing adults out. In a moment of subtle pressure - and not for the first time - the unofficial God daughter got me to agree to take them for a meal to the Frankie & Benny’s across the road from mine. At the time, I was only slightly worried - it was late August, and the school holidays were not till October. I assumed that the kids, being kids, would have forgotten by the time October rolled along. My bunch didn’t, which was how I ended up dragging two children - with a third, the chief instigator, planning to arrive after a birthday party - through the doors at just past 12.30 on a Saturday afternoon; as far removed from my typical Saturday as could be. No gym, or light cleaning or an early Cineworld movie to look forward to. ...