I pass the hot crumpet quickly from hand to hand and drop it onto my plate. 'More!' Elsie says, pointing at it. 'More please Mummy,' I correct, and put a layer of margarine on it, allowing it to melt into the holes.
'Would you like honey on your crumpet?' I ask, and look at Elsie for her nod. Instead, she brings her hand to her mouth, makes a fist and starts tooting.
I struggle to keep my face straight. 'Crumpet' I repeat. 'Not trumpet.'