Happy adoption day to my youngest daughter. My two children have an extra celebration each year; yesterday I went shopping to help my eldest daughter buy her sister a present.
The long queue outside Waterstones was for a "ticket only" signing by, one of one of my youngest daughter's favourite authors, JacquelineWilson. A chance to get a signed copy of her new book was too good to miss. The assistant, looking after the assembled Wilson fans, had one ticket left. So we duly bought a copy, of the aptly named “The Worst Thing About My Sister”, and joined the queue. We were 248th, out of the 250 signings, but Jacqueline was still happy and smiling as the last customers filed through to her.
‘Any message’, she asked
‘Happy adoption day’, I said.
‘That's lovely, no one has ever asked me to do that before. Is it for you?’ she said looking at my eldest with a broad smile and sparkle in her eyes.
‘It's for my sister’, said my daughter.
‘How old is she?’
‘And it's her eleventh adoption day tomorrow,’ I continued.
‘What a lovely idea,’ she said.
Happy adoption day. Maybe it's lovely idea for the next Jacqueline Wilson title?