It's this time two years ago. Eldest daughter(ED) is starting to get very excited about her forthcoming Christmas concert at nursery. She is aged three and a half.
The finale of the concert is when each child in her class stands up, holds a letter aloft and says a phrase linked to their letter. The letters in turn spell out CHRISTMAS JOY.
ED is delighted as she has been allocated the letter J, which also happens to be the first initial of her name. ED is happy and I am happy that she is happy so everything is well with the world.
Until...we go shopping one Saturday afternoon. ED decides that she wants to practice her phrase to ensure that she has it spot on for the big day. Being an indulgent kind of fella I agree that this would be good.
I then find myself wandering down Byres Road in my neighbourhood, where I'm rather well know with a small angelic looking child telling random pedestrians that J is for Jesus at maximum decibels.
A fair number of acquaintances of mine that we met that day now believe that I am a closet member of the God Squad.
And for this I paid that damn nursery an obscene amount of cash each month.
