To offset some of the panic, negativity and fear consuming the world, and remind people of the joys to be had when they switch off their phones, I thought I’d share some cute and funny things my kids said yesterday.
I went swimming with my two-year-old, Rosie. At one point, she was sitting on my lap and we were comparing how big our thumbs are. She labelled one of my thumbs ‘mummy’ and one ‘daddy’, then pushed the tips together to make a triangle and said, ‘Mummy and daddy best friends.’
That’s right, I said. We are best friends.
She then labelled her own thumbs ‘Rosie’ and ‘Izzie’, and put them into the triangle of protection under ‘mummy’ and ‘daddy’, making a little family of thumbs.
It was one of the cutest things I’ve ever experienced.
Of course, she ruined it a few minutes later when I took her to the toilet and, thinking it was a sink, she immediately stuck her hand in the nearest urinal.
She’s also started saying something really funny. It’s my fault, I have to admit. I told her not to let the dog lick her, and she asked me why.
Because dogs use their tongues as toilet paper.
So now she keeps saying, ‘No, Ozzy, don’t lick me with your toilet paper!’
But it’s just the latest in a string of weird idiosyncrasies – like the way every night when she gets into bed, she selects the teddy she wants to sleep with then shouts at the rest as though they’ve offended her, before angrily flinging them across the room – only to welcome them again in the morning. ‘You not sleep with me, no way Jose!’
My eldest, Izzie, is so far beyond her years, I often forget I’m talking to a four-year-old. She’s astonishingly switched-on for a child, and seems to understand human interaction better than I do. When my wife and I are at loggerheads, she often comes up with a fair and reasonable solution that neither of us had even considered. She even knows the alphabet, and can write all her letters in lower and upper case – I hadn’t even started school by her age.
But then, midway through a normal conversation, I’ll get a jarring reminder that she’s still just a child. Like yesterday evening when we went shopping.
While we were driving down a dark country lane, she turned to me and said, ‘I helped Gramps milk the cows. And there was a cow that had just been born, and Gramps had to go in the mud to help it and he got all dirty.’
You saw a cow being born?
‘Well, I am going to be a farmer,’ she said matter-of-factly.
You like getting muddy?
‘You have to when you’re a farmer.’
I guess so. Maybe Gramps will leave you the farm when you’re older.
‘No, we’re going to run it together.’
I glanced over at her. Sweetheart, Gramps is in his late sixties and you’re four. I don’t think you’re going to be able to run it together.
Because right now you’re too young and by the time you’re old enough, he’ll be too old.
‘Oh,’ she said, crestfallen.
But that doesn’t mean you can’t help him as you’re growing up, I said quickly. Make sure you learn as much as you can from him, so that one day, when you’re all grown up, you’ll be ready to run a farm all by yourself.
‘Okay. And then you can work on the farm too.’
‘You can look after the cows when I’m being a superhero. I’m going to be very busy.’ She looked out the window and sighed, like it was all such a burden. ‘I’m going to have to learn to fly.’
The way she said it was so earnest and serious, that I couldn’t help laughing.
Oh. Where are you going to learn that?
‘Flying school,’ she said, as though I was stupid. ‘I have to go if I’m going to be a superhero.’
Yeah, I guess you do. You don’t want to pick one or the other – farmer or superhero?
‘No, I think I can do both, if you look after the cows.’
Well, study hard and we’ll have to see, won’t we?