It’s been a while. Suddenly it’s the Baby’s birthday tomorrow. Four! Almost grown up. (Certainly too grown up to still be called the Baby.) I’m not with them at the moment – I’ll miss the traditional “surprise” breakfast, and the family day out, and her party – which breaks my heart a little bit. As well as being away from them, I will also be away from you lot for a while (although my Textpat wife will continue to post our inane telephonic witterings over here) - but don’t go away! I will be back, soonish, with more parenting humiliations to brighten your day.
Speaking of which, here’s something I wrote a couple of weeks ago – just before God decided to laugh at my plans.
Aw, kids. Aren’t they sweet? Don’t they say the darnest things? And you know, the more time you spend with them, the more little nuggets of wisdom you can glean from them. Here, for example, is a (non-exhaustive) list of some the things my kids have said to me this week:
· Mummy, stop singing. SERIOUSLY! Your mouth is all weird and wrinkly. It looks like an old dog’s bottom.
· Mummy, please can you stop breeving on me wif your disgusting stinky breff?
· Oh Mummy, that hat looks lovely on you! You can’t see your face. You should wear it all the time.
· You’re going OUT? But… You’re not allowed to go out! You have to stay here and look at me while I sleep. That’s your job. You don’t want to get fired from your job, do you? [um….]
· That lady reminds me of you. [Pointing at a picture of Ozzy Ozbourne.]
· Do you drink wine with your dinner to make it taste nice? Because *this* [pointing at food I’ve just made her] might taste better if I was drinking wine.
· I love you Mummy, but sometimes you’re a bit… [pauses, searches for accurate word...] Screechy.
· Mummy, do I *have* to look like you when I grow up? [Said not so much with disgust as with fear.]
· Daddy sexed you? [Said with 100% disgust.]
(Looking at this list I realise there’s a lot to be said for not spending too much time with one’s children.)
Clearly, my kids view me as nothing short of a hideous gargoyle. Assuming I am not alone in this offspring insult-fest, what delights - intended or otherwise – have your children thrown at you this week? (Alternatively, if you *are* a gargoyle, how do you minimise your disgusting-factor?)