As those words escape Freya’s lips, a flash of movement catches my eye, and we both look over to see a wee blond-haired boy, who can’t be more than six years old, staring directly up at us, listening to our entire exchange. His mother stands just behind him, looking outraged. With a scathing look, she drags the wee lad away, no doubt thinking we’re a couple of perverts, and I hear his wee voice repeat, “Is my penis called the Loch Ness monster too, Mummy?”
D-E-D dead
