Kids Say The Funniest Things.

Fatherhood, eh?

I’m going to whisper this, but I think Barrymore was right. Yep; Michael Barrymore. Absolutely spot on. He really was. Genuinely… kids actually do say the funniest things. My two little comediennes keep me endlessly entertained with their slightly insane, toddler logic.

Here are a few examples:

Imagine if you will a classic British park, full of lovely British people. There’s enough evidence in one corner of the tarmac playground haven that the eyes and the epicenter of the Marlborough mist (other cigarettes are available) that the parents are actually watching their children as they etch their first ‘tags’ into the base of the roundabout.

Then my youngest pipes up…

Lowen: Daddy, I need a poo.

Me: Well, I guess we'd best round up your sister and go home then.

Lowen: No, I need a poo on the grass.

Me: We definitely can't do that, Lowen. This place is marginally too classy for that.

Lowen: Ducks poo on the grass.

Me: ...

 
 

She got me there.

Then there’s the morning ‘what chair to sit in ritual’. Let’s face it, if your Feng Shui is out first thing, what hope is there for the rest of the day?

Effy: Mummy's chair is too tall, Daddy's chair... isn't right. Baby's chair is perfect! (Sits down)

Me: Alright, Goldilocks!

Effy: I'm not Goldilocks! I'm a bear! I think Lowen's a bear too.

Lowen: I'M NOT A BEAR! I'm a balloon.

 
 

Life lessons; don’t call my youngest a bear. You’ll find that Rice Krispies shower down on you like a hellish snapping, crackling, popping hail storm of milk covered doom.

They’re pretty creative too, all told. Top excuses for not wanting to eat your sandwiches include:

Effy: It's just that I'm not feeling very well *coughs* and I think the ham is making me worse.

*coughs again*

What she lacks in sandwich stamina, though, she makes up for in toilet etiquette. And awareness of time.

Me: Effy, when was the last time you went to the loo?

Effy: Err... 6 months ago.

Me: Ok. Can you go before we get in the car then?

Effy: No. Don't need to.

 
 

Fucking bladder of steel, that one.

Life goals:

Effy: I want to be a storm trooper when I grow up.

Then there are those moments when they make you question every parenting choice you’ve ever made in one fell swoop. Explaining why she keeps her arms in her seat belt:

Effy: I took them out once, and then you shouted at me… That's the story of my life.

4-year-old literacy learning is equally good craic.

Effy: Daddy, I've made a new name! What does it say?

Me: (looking at the assortment of letters stuck, seemingly randomly, to the bathroom tiles)

Err, it says VCSNUJ1. Although I think that the V might be silent.

Effy: That's my new favorite name.

Me: With a silent V?

Effy: Yes.

Then they just say what they’re thinking. No holds barred.

Me: We’re going to be meeting Grandpa at Granny Bridget’s house.

Effy: Granny Bridget?

Me: Well, actually she’s your Great Granny Bridget. She’s Grandpa’s mummy.

Effy: Great Granny? (Long pause of deep, existential thought) Why isn’t she dead yet?

So yeah. That bloke Barrymore. He did have a point, didn’t he?