‘Mummy didn’t help. I made them. Here you are, Daddy.’
It was now Daddy realised Maisy hadn’t used cookie dough. If he ate Maisy’s cookie, he’d be in for an upset stomach. Was there any nice way to tell his three-year-old Play Dough should stay in the play room?
He waved at his wife and child, pretending to bite into the cookie just before driving off.
He saw Maisy smiling.
Job done.