We have a very different approach to being romantic- me and the father of my child.
He is ... umm... anti romance. He gifted me a xerox of an academic article on the global flower industry in lieu of roses on valentine's day.
I am...mostly mush, on most days.
We do a little tug of war to gently pull the child onto our respective sides.
"A prince and princess got married today, lets see if its still being played and replayed over and over again", i declared to the child, eager to keep silly, happy stories alive for her.
She was most curious. "A real prince and princess? "
"Yes, in London, remember the poem?"
The TV sprang to life instead of pretending to be furniture in the corner.
We watched, the child and me, the replay of the walk down the aisle, the fumbling with the ring, the kiss on the balcony.
"Sanah, why are you watching this rubbish with mummy?" The father shouted.
"I want to, will they show the inside of the castle? I want to see what that looks like"
She quizzed me on the authenticity of the prince and princess - who is the king, why is the father not the king, why is that small woman in yellow the queen, who is this and who is that, why is this and why not that?
After grabbing the remote and finding the kiss on every news channel the father despondently decided to burst the romantic bubble by making things mundane and matter of fact.
"Whats the big deal with this wedding? Your mum and I also got married like this."
"Was your wedding shown on TV?" she asked, waiting for the inside of the castle to be revealed to her.
The battle between the anti-romantic and the romantic is passe. She burst both our bubbles in one go.