Last night Darling daughter descended the staircase in a swirl of yellow chiffon, wearing the beautiful dress given her by her Fairy (Elvish ) Godmother, AKA Best Friend In All The World and erstwhile bridesmaid at the dangerous Barbados nuptials.
It is a rather glamorous frock for Brittany, and we had been waiting for another wedding or similar event for its first outing.
"Ooh where are you off to tonight?" I say. "Fancy party is it?"
"Not really. It's Pierre's birthday."
"Well why are you wearing your fancy dress?"
"It is a Ca Ca party."
Those of you who understand French will know that this is a reference to poot, poo or number twos. I am worrying about how to describe this in order to avoid the arrival of those who have entered certain keywords...
I freeze and try to frame the appropriate question to discover whether my 16 year old has fallen amongst exploitative adults or undesirable friends.
"And what is that exactly?" I ask, trying to sound casual.
"Well Pierre is always making dreadful jokes about CaCa, so we decided to theme his surprise birthday party. Everyone has to wear yellow or brown! Oh, and can I borrow your 1930's sunglasses with the creamy yellow frames."
52 minutes ago