Firstborn likes to state the obvious.
On Friday, the fifth of what feels like a thousand nannies arrives at our humble hovel for her interview. As usual, Firstborn bounces to the door, opens it and shouts out a cheery greeting. I smile, say hello, apologise about the state of the house (two small children imprisoned inside all day = utter chaos), and lead her into the sitting room. Prospective Nanny takes off her jacket. Firstborn's eyes widen, she points a finger at the girl and squeals, "You're wearing a pink shirt!" The nanny smiles and says, "Yes, I am." Firstborn's eyes take on an evil glint as she bellows, "You've great great big pink boobies!" I try not to laugh. I fail miserably. Firstborn and I are practically rolling on the floor crying with laughter. Prospective Nanny looks at us with incomprehension.
I apologise and start the interview. But I cannot stop starting at her breasts. They are truly gigantic. They are huge pink mounds completely filling my line of vision. Then I remember what Firstborn said, and the look on her face as she said it, and I can't help but let out a giggle. This continues for half an hour until the interview ends and Prospective Nanny flees from our den of iniquity with a relieved look on her face.
I have a feeling that we failed the interview.