I was in the swimming pool changing room of my gym when a woman started loudly performance-parenting with her daughter who was about nine.
Being stark naked with wringing wet hair is a bit of a social leveller so I don't know whether she felt superior or inferior to me but she was loudly talking about restaurants, holidays and a particularly exclusive local school.
She encouraged her daughter to talk about a recent party thrown by a classmate who I took to be the daughter of a Very Important Person. But her daughter wasn't following any of the cues, chiefly, revealing the name of the Very Important Parent.
Instead, she kept talking about what a great time she'd had, especially playing with her friend Variety's rabbit. Apparently the rabbit was: "Lovely and Variety's mummy said she might have babies and if she did Variety's mummy said I could have one if you and Daddy said it was all right and I'd clean it out and everything."
The woman said: "Her name is Verity, darling."
The little girl said: "That's what I said. Can I have a rabbit? Please!"
I do not judge the little girl. Instead, I thank her for bringing me quiet joy after a swim on a Tuesday afternoon. I never did find out the identities of Variety's Very Important Parents.