My son said he wanted a DVD on Religion, so I got him one.

Then he said he wanted a tricycle, so I got him one.

Then, a few weeks later, he said he wanted a poster of Will Smith's face, so I got him one.

The next day he said he wanted a coffee machine. I was getting irate now. But hey, I thought, if I get him this hopefully that will be the end.

I was wrong. So very wrong. On the same day he said he wanted a caterpillar costume. Reluctantly, I got him one. Secondhand.

Then he said he wanted something for a friend, a new pair of underwear. I had no idea why he would be giving his friend underwear, and I knew he only wanted them for himself. But hey, I thought, I don't want him to defecate on his clothes, so I got him some.

After that, he approached me, and I was on the verge of an outburst. What do you want this time? I asked him. A sword? A sandwich? A three-headed dog? He said, no, he didn't want any of those things. Except the three-headed dog and the sword and the sandwich.

Look, I said, get on with it. What are you after this time?

He said he wanted a book on festival puns.

I was sick out of it. Sick of his audacity and my empty wallet. I headed for the door to get away, but he grabbed my arm and asked me what was wrong.

I said, Son, you carnival the things you want.