My son thinks I’m a secret agent undercover expat spy. We had the following conversation:
Pickle: “Are you a secret Agent Mummy?”
Me with a mouthful of food: “Mmmmmmm.”
Pickle: “THAT’S A YES ISN’T IT. I KNEW IT. YES. Mum’s a
I didn’t disagree with him.
I thought about his question a little more and decided that it was quite a logical conclusion for him to come to.
We live a global expat lifestyle.
We have different wallets with different credit cards, multiple phones and various currency denominations
Thanks to my expat upbringing, I speak a smattering of different languages. Pickle has also been exposed to my mixed attempts at various accents when reading bedtime stories. I know he notices them because he gets irritated and demands that I read in my ‘normal voice’.
I have eyes in the back of my head
Occasionally Pickle will ask me to close the eyes in the back of my head so that he can ransack the fridge. To be fair, I think all mum’s have this superpower. That and the knowledge that when things go quiet, the kids are up to something.
I’m excellent at keeping secrets and a master of disguise.
I am Father Christmas, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. I am yet to be rumbled and I think I know where Father Christmas goes on holiday.
I’ve got new sunglasses
They will help me to go incognito.
Seriously, MI6* should think about recruiting some of us trailing spouses. Often we are unable to work due to visa restrictions. Unable to work and yet well educated, with an eclectic and well-connected cast of internationally mobile friends and all sorts of strange and useful skills acquired on our expat travels. We can fly way under the radar.
So yes, as far as Pickle is concerned, I am a Secret Agent.
As far as Pickle is concerned I’m also only 21.
..and for now, both of those assumptions are just fine by me.
*MI6 is James Bond’s employer