‘Please Grandma, please’
All big dark saucer-eyes, the little tyke begged convincingly with the type of appeal that a major advertising agency would be proud of. He pointed fat chubby fingers at the lollies stashed by the counter.
‘No, not today’
‘Gran-ma pleeeeeeeeeeeeese’
I stifled a laugh. My mother turned to me exasperated.
‘Why do they put them at the counter? We’ve almost got out of here scot-free’.
We’d successfully negotiated the trolley past the crisps aisle (‘Nope nothing down there we need’) and past the doughnuts with their cream and gluggy strawberry jam. We’d managed to divert his attention when the free-be tester was handing out chocolate.
