J and me are waiting for a lift to take us from the platform at the local railway station. A mother approaches at speed with her little girl in her pushchair, stopping just short of us.
Speedy Mum: Wheeeee!
The little girl laughs
Me: I see you do that too.
Speedy Mum: It'a a time filler. Got to keep them amused somehow.
Me: True.
The lift door opens
Speedy Mum: Look Lottie, a lift. (to me) She loves lifts.
Me: He's quite partial to them too.
Speedy Mum: It's funny that, isn't it?
Me: For him it's often a double whammy. He likes the movement and, when there is one, looking in the mirror.
Speedy Mum: Great! How old is he?
Me: Seven months.
Speedy Mum: Wow!
Me: (to baby) And hello Lottie - how old are you?
Speedy Mum: Six months.
Me: Aw.
Pause as the lift doors open and we step out
Me: Just a thought, but if she likes lifts, you should try the ones at Tate Britain - they're really tall. Massive doors too. She's sure to like it.
Speedy Mum: Oh - that's a good place to go. She'll like that. Byeeee!
Lottie and her mother scoot away.
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