There is an Italian car show on in town for the Easter weekend, and Daddy is very excited. Many, many cars are on show – most of them impressively shiny high-performance sports cars or rare special editions belonging to enthusiasts and collectors. As Daddy’s remarkably average car is, at least, Italian, he likes to pretend he is part way to belonging to the elite club of owners in town today, and to fantasise that one day he may even own a car worthy of a spot in the show. Big bro, who has no concept of the value of money, can’t understand why Daddy doesn’t just buy one of these cars if he likes them so much, so Daddy launches into a long explanation about houses and mortgages and food and tax… which somehow concludes with Daddy planning to buy an Italian performance car and live on baked beans. Mummy points out that these car owners spend every spare moment at the weekend polishing the insides of their engines with silk cloths whilst Daddy treats his car like a shrine to Ginsters pasty wrappers and is therefore undeserving of such a vehicle. Daddy says Mummy is missing the point… presumably that he wouldn’t be able to afford Ginsters pasties if he owned a Ferrari California.
If Mummy is to be dragged round a car show on her sunny bank holiday weekend off with the family, instead of sitting in the garden sipping Pimms or going to buy a new kitchen like Daddy promised, she insists Daddy will carry the baby. This is Mummy’s clever ploy as Daddy will tire faster and therefore will more quickly suggest retiring to the pub. Meanwhile, Mummy’s legs won’t hurt so much whilst she is hanging around the cars and trying to find a big enough clearing in the crowd for some half-decent window shopping. Or even actual shopping, if the cars distract Daddy for long enough.
Unfortunately, Mummy’s plan has backfired. Not only does Daddy – who usually complains his legs hurt on a short walk round a flat field – display remarkable strength and stamina for carrying a two tonne infant with thighs like tree trunks round the hard cobbled streets… he also takes this opportunity to educate his daughter at length on the finer points of Italian car design and maintenance.
Daddy thinks she is listening and interested. Rebel Baby could not look less impressed with his endeavours. She spends a short while trying to lick the back of his neck in protest, then takes the opportunity to have a stealthy nap, waking up from time to time just to see if Daddy is still talking. The things a baby has to endure, eh?