The Great Cup Debate

There is nothing guaranteed to send me into a frenzy faster than The Great Cup Debate and it happens, without fail, every meal time. It goes something like this.

Mummy: Would you like a drink?
Son: Alwight.
Mummy: There you go, enjoy.
Son: Don't want dat cup - want a blue cup!

(Mummy's heart-rate begins to quicken. Just a little.)

Are you sure?

Mummy: Fine. Here's the blue cup.
Son: Not dat blue cup! Da fishy cup!
Mummy: You said the blue cup.
Son: Said a FISHY cup!
Mummy: I don't even know where the fish cup is.
Son (getting louder and more tearful): Fishy cup! Fishy cup! Fishy cup!
Mummy: Alright, alright! I'll just go and find it for you, shall I?

(Mummy exits. Aggravated mutterings heard from next room. Enter Mummy.)

Mummy: Why does this cup have half a worm in it?

(Silence)

Mummy (crossly peeling off worm and scrubbing cup): You know, I haven't actually eaten anything yet. I'll probably collapse and die of starvation right here, not that anyone cares -
Son: FISHY CUP!!
Mummy: FINE! Here.

(Silence)

Son: Don't want a fishy cup! Want a flower cup!
Mummy: What? What flower cup? We don't have a flower cup.
Son: Flower cup! Flower cup!
Mummy: What - that? That's not a cup, that's a vase.
Son: FLOWER CUP! FLOWER CUP!
Mummy: What's wrong with the fish cup? Look, it's got lovely fishes on it -

(Smash)

Mummy: Well you've gone and broken it now.
Son (crying): Want a fishy cup!
Mummy (taking huge slug of wine and wiping sweating brow): There is no fishy cup. It's gone. You broke it.
Son (sobbing): Fishy cup, fishy cup!
Mummy: THERE IS NO FISHY CUP. You'll have to have the blue cup.
Son: Don't want a blue cup!
Mummy (in complete frenzy now): You should be thankful to have a cup at all! Some little children don't even have cups! They don't have a blue cup or a fishy cup or an anything cup! They have to use their hands!

(Silence. Smash.)

Son: Don't want a cup anymore! Want a hands!


The Great Cup Debate. Coming to a dinner table near you, all too bloody soon.