I can’t come to your birthday party because Ernie Mancini, my uncle’s old business partner, is looking for me. No, it’s not because I spend weekends at my dad’s.
It may be futile to try to stop your kids from seeing monsters altogether. After all, they are on the front page of the Times every day, usually striking a menacing pose.
When Ivanka speaks, in her breathy Tweety Bird-at-boarding-school burble, the effect is complete: she’s like an American Girl doll with a trust fund and a Gucci attaché case.
You’ve seen “Downton Abbey” three times. For your next posh Brit fix, try this nativity play from an exclusive London primary school, filmed by a proud front-row parent.
I will never complain about having to go to work. Every day, I will get down on my knees and kiss that gray carpeting, as long as the industrial fibres do not irritate my lips too badly.