My daughter has taken to making and decorating fairly elaborate paper aeroplanes. Her latest creation she decided to dedicate to me. It’s the only way I’m likely to have a plane or ship with my name painted down the side, so I was of course very happy to accept this honour and busied myself round the house (Ok sat and read a book) while she worked busily in the living room – the door firmly shut.
After half an hour or so she called me in to display her latest addition to the fleet.
“Look I’ve written your whole name out – Jane Alberta Bronwyn Christabel Deanna Eve Frances Austen!” she exclaimed. (You know I use a pseudonym, right?!)
“That’s lovely darling.”
“And look here’s you looking out of the window, and here’s a cat?! and some flowers and on the other side I’ve written Mamaaaa,” as she had in huge letters.
Only one thing was troubling me – apart from the terrified expression she’d painted on my face looking out of the plane port hole. And that was the initials she had written above my name.
“It’s your plane mummy. Look what I’ve written R I P.”
Not being a fan of flying, this again struck me as unfortunate.
“RIP darling, well that’s a little negative,” I started out, “why have you written that?”
“Because you’re a Very Important Person, ” she answered , raising her eyebrows with a doh-mum-where -have-you-been-for-the-last-century kind of look.
“Yes look, but better than a VIP – you are an RIP – a Really Important Person.”
Postscript. Yes, I did explain when the term RIP is more usually used- and despite her chronic fear of mummy dying, she actually laughed! Hmmmm.