We're on a boat trip up the Moscow River. (It's one of the things you only ever get round to when you have visitors - in this case, my parents). The vessel is perfectly sea-worthy but has definitely seen better days. No matter; Boy #2 is delighted to simply be on the water. An hour into our trip, however, the excitement starts to wane, just as a very swanky boat from the Radisson Hotel glides by, all glass-encased luxury and futuristic lines.
Boy #2 watches it float past, his expression unreadable. Then, he turns to me and, deadpan, utters the immortal line;
"I think we're on the wrong boat, mama."
A truer word...
