Kit-Kaught in the act

Carolyn had her hair cut on Thursday. She usually agonises about it for days beforehand, trying to decide whether to have her hair cut really quite short this time, then plays it safe and has about a quarter of an inch taken off. On Thursday, however, she sent me a text message to say she'd had four whole inches cut off. So I gave her a call to see if she had recovered from the trauma. She was driving her kids in the car at the time and answered on her hands-free set:

Me: So how did it turn out, then?
Carolyn: Oh, it's not too bad, I suppose.
Me: What do the children think of it?
Carolyn: They haven't noticed it yet.
Aran (her son): What haven't we noticed, mum?
Me: Your mum's new haircut. How does it look, Aran? Do you like it?
[Long pause as Aran inspects his mum's hair.]
Aran: Mum, you've been eating Kit-Kats!
Carolyn: No I haven't!
Aran: Yes you have: I can smell them!

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