We were only out for a family lunch in Napier in the holidays. We didn't expect to be facing moral dilemmas about the corruption of youth and how the tobacco industry targets children but that's exactly what we encountered at the well-reviewed Mister D restaurant one sunny Wednesday.
Our nine-year-old couldn't believe her eyes as we perused the menu for on the reverse was a nostalgic photograph of a curly-haired child smoking.
Her questions came thick and fast.
Q: "Is he smoking?" A: "Yes."
Q: "How old is he?" A: "Um, about five, maybe four."
Q: "Is the cigarette lit?" A: "Yes, there's smoke coming off it."
Q: "Why is he smoking?" A: "I don't know. Now stop with all the questions and decide what you want to eat."
Out of the two of us, my husband possesses the most hardcore anti-smoking stance.
"Don't do that," we'd shouted in unison when our daughter had once jokingly pretended to smoke a lollipop stick. However I immediately followed it up with: "That's not how you smoke. This is how it should be done," as I demonstrated the action with my palm facing towards my mouth rather than away. My other half was not impressed that what initially seemed like a fine example of harmonious parenting deteriorated into instruction about correct smoking technique.