A man at the supermarket noticed a woman talking to her two-year-old daughter, seated in the shopping trolley.

The little girl began reaching and pointing for biscuits. When her mother refused, the girl broke into tears.

“Now Monica,” said the mother, “we just have two more aisles to go through. Don’t be upset. It won’t be long”.

As they passed the chocolate section, little girl began to shout and gesture again. When told she couldn’t have any, she began to cry.

“There, there,” said the mother. “Don’t cry, Monica. We’re nearly done”.

When they reached checkout, the little girl immediately began to clamour for lollipops. Once again, she burst into tears on realising she wouldn’t get any.

“Monica,” said the mother, calmly, “we’ll be home very soon. Then you can have a nice, long nap.”

Feeling respect for the hardships of parenthood, the man was compelled to approach her in the car park outside.

“I couldn’t help notice how patient you were with little Monica,” he began.

The mother sighed.

“Oh, no. My little girl’s name is Tammy. I’m Monica.”

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