But the truth is, after he became my father, Sweetie, he’s been all doting.
He thinks everything I do is cute. But a different cute.
He’s not like other people who say,That boy’ll go far. He’ll go far, but he’ll never leave Bangu.’”
I gave Pinkie a tender look. Now that I’d discovered what tenderness was, I lavished it on everything that I liked.
You see, Pinkie, I want to have twelve children and then twelve more. Do you understand?
The first lot will all be children and no one will ever lay a finger on them. The other twelve will grow into men.
And I’ll go and ask each of them,What do you most want to be, son? A woodcutter?
Right, then. Here’s an axe and a chequered shirt. You want to be a lion tamer? Well, here’s a whip and a uniform.
What about at Christmas? What are you going to do with so many children?
Pinkie was really something! Interrupting at a time like that.
At Christmas I’m going to have lots of money. I’ll buy a truckload of nuts and chestnuts and hazelnuts.
Walnuts, figs and raisins. So many toys that they’ll give or lend them to our poor neighbours...
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