A request

As her birthday is looming nearer, and we are conscious that we won’t have much time after the baby is born, we have started thinking about what presents to get Amy. Every time we ask her what she would like she invariably says the same thing:

“An eggbox please”.

At first we thought it was a miscommunication, and we spent ages trying to figure out what she really wanted:

“Do you mean a Kinder egg?”

“No, an eggbox.”

“What do you want to do with it sweetheart?”

“Throw it up in the air.”

What on earth could she mean? I spent hours muttering the word “eggbox” under my breath, putting inflections on different parts of the word in an attempt to crack the code. Try as I might I just couldn’t decipher what she really wanted.

Then I emptied an egg box from the fridge and gave it to her. She was ecstatic. She didn’t throw it up in the air, but she spent around an hour decorating it with her felt tip pens, and is still periodically going back to it three days later.

So I have a request. We don’t eat a lot of eggs in the Hughes household. Kerry doesn’t really like them and I’m too lazy to cook them just for me. We’re going to start saving the boxes up, but if any of the Huddersfield lot fancy putting their empty egg cartons aside until Amy’s birthday on November the 23rd then we would be very grateful.

…

Oh sod it, I’ve tried to resist but I can’t let an opportunity like this just go by: Despite it being very eggstreme to feel the need to make very mediyolka puns, omletting you know that any neggatitve reaction to my yokes could leave my emotions scrambled. I try to see things sunny side up, but if you’re going to be rotten you can just cluck oeuf.

Thank you, thank you; I’ll be here all week.

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