Friday, 12 October 2007

The Girl: Telling It Like It Is For Three And A Half Years

Scene 1


Me: Who's more clever, Mummy or Daddy?
The Girl (without hesitation): Daddy.
Me: Really? You're sure?
The Girl: Yep.
Me: How come?
The Girl: Daddy can juggle.



Scene 2

Me (in a flap): Look, you've got to stop running away from me in the street. My job is to take care of you, sweetheart, and keep you safe and I can't do that if you keep dashing off so please listen, I need your help to do my job so don't do that again. OK?
The Girl: But Mum, that's not your job, your job is writing.



What the hell is she going to be like when she's a teenager?

Stumble Upon Toolbar

6 comments:

Emma said...

Just tell her that when Daddy can unicyle the length of the road, the drinks are on you.

She's obviously got your number in other ways too, but there are ways to make the most of it. If not running in the road's a joint operation, no reason why the writing shouldn't be, in due course. My daughter's a dab hand with filing and my tax return, and though my son refuses to read my work, (and I don't blame him: at no age do you want to know that your mother knows All That Stuff) he's been the most fantastic rep for it at school.

Eve said...

Make the most of it, really, for when they reach that teenage stage they stop talking and just start grunting or yelling.

I've spent most of the day apologising for things that are way beyond my control just to stop having doors slammed into my face and 'I hate you' screamed from behind it!

And she's just 10!

Ross said...

Wow. Kids sound great. Makes me want to rush out and have a whole mess of 'em.

Jenn said...

I've got a three year old who tells me to shut up, stop doing that, and never touch her stickers ever, ever, ever again. She had clearly inherited my misanthropy. Thanks for the comment on your blog - yours made me smile: there's a lot here I can empathise with :)

Susie said...

This brings back memories of 24 years ago when I was amazed by a 3 year old's ability to make a valid point. Her father relinquished responsibility in the playground as she took off her shoes to get a better grip when climbing the wire fencing andI think he expected me to wait for him to get home (at 8 or 9 p.m.) so I could go shopping alone! Nothing changes: she still does everything her 'own self'.

Mum'sTheWord said...

Thanks for these comments. Often these days I look at her and think: 'I'm in very safe hands'.