At quarter to eleven this morning I found myself trudging through the spitting rain with our youngest to deliver her to a friend’s house for the day. She proudly carried a tin of plastic farm animals she had inherited earlier in the week (found in a dark corner of a friend’s attic during a clear out - we estimate from the rusty tin that the ragtag collection of toys is perhaps 40 years old).
It transpired that Little Miss 5 would be heading out for the day to visit the cinema - Gnomeo and Juliet - and would probably be eating at McDonalds. I never gave it a second thought. I rubbed her hair as she vanished into the house with her little friend, exchanged pleasantries with his parents, waved, and went on my way.
If you want to see just what a McDonalds Happy Meal does to a young child, you need to go and look in our youngest’s bedroom at bedtime this evening. The exorcist had nothing on her. The only way I might describe her antics might have been as “the animated child”.
If the saying “you are what you eat” is true, then McDonalds must be putting hydrogen peroxide in their chicken McNuggets.