Reader, I Killed Him

Ten years ago, when my daughter was still a plumptious baby, her older brother would entertain her by pretending to beat himself up while she laughed and clapped.  ‘I feel very sorry for your future boyfriends,’ I said.

Her Cercei Lannister streak was further confirmed last Christmas when she played Monopoly – howling with rage when another player landed on a posh square she wanted.  At one point I noticed her passing Monopoly money under the table.

And the other day she was playing Sims, and for reasons I don’t understand or care about she had to get an ex Sim character out of the house.  ‘I’ve split up with him and now I can’t get him out of the house.’  We decided that the best thing to do was to lure him out of the house and then go back in and change the locks.

Later I asked how she’d managed it.   ‘Easy,’ she said.  ‘I just killed him.’  I didn’t realise this was an option and asked how she’d done it. ‘I starved him,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Laters!’

Not only does my daughter play monopoly like Cercei Lannister she conducts relationships in the same way.

I feel very sorry indeed for her future boyfriends.

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