Sweet success and being just a daddy . . . .

Sweets: a cure for all ills.............

Swimming this morning, The B somehow managed to injure himself.
He'd been lying on a float, face down, sliding around the pool.
It looked like fun.
Until he slid right off, that is.
The pool floor quite rough, I presume for optimal grip underfoot, the result a painful-looking stomach scrape.
The B red-tummied and tearful, it seemed best to end our session and head for the changing room for cuddles and a closer examination.
In these situations, I find sweets cure most ills and so I decided to prescribe Starmix, just a small dose, just right for such injuries.
"Is this going to make it better?" The B asked as I produced the packet.
"Trust me," I replied. "I'm a doctor."
The B thought about this for a moment.
"You're not a doctor," he said. "Mummy's a doctor."
I opened the sweets for him, the tears gone already.
"So what am I?" I asked.
Further contemplation.
"You're just a daddy," he said.
That's good enough for me.