I am Spartacus

Here’s an exchange I had today:

Hey Aunt B, let me take a picture of you in your new dressing gown. People have been concerned, so I want to send them a picture of you looking all cosy.

People? What people? Why are they ‘concerned’?

Oh you know – the kids, my ┬ámother… of course they’re concerned, because I said you were in hospital!

Your mother? You don’t have a mother.

Of course I do.

You don’t have a mother. You have a brother. And his name is Kate.

Er – well then what’s MY name then?

Ohhh, I’ve given up asking her.