"What is this?", she asks formally and she moves two Purity bottles in between her thumb and index finger under my nose.
"Uhm, baby food and baby milk?"
It's like a Maths test. I knew that I was right, but then this voice in my head popped up saying: "Trick question, trick question!" I believed the Voice (of course), changed all logical answers, and messed the test up.
I look at her in disbelief. Behind me are three very tired children, of which one in a padded car-seat. There are backpacks and stuffed animals stuck in the prams and our tickets state clearly that all five of us fly from Amsterdam via London and Johannesburg, to Durban.
My blood pressure rises while I count up to 10.
And I taste.
"Sorry, I didn’t see you taste it?", says Giganto.
"Maybe you could try tasting some more, rather than finish everything you try. It might prevent your pants being so tight." But that's just a scenario played out in my head.
In reality I say: "Oh yes, what an excellent idea!"
I test, write down her name and we move on.
For, I am this mother with role model aspirations AND furthermore in practice negative (angry Customs) times negative (sad children) will never result in a positive outcome.