My daddy is a monkey. And my mum is fat and can’t cook.
March 17, 2011 § 6 Comments
Children are brilliant at putting you down. They don’t mean to cause offence, they just tell it like it is. It’s often hilarious, sometimes sobering, but always always honest. Ask your child “does my bum looks big in this?” and if they’re not yet old enough to understand social niceties or the need to tell little white lies, don’t be surprised if they reply with a big bald “yes it’s HUGE!”
The other weekend I was sorting out my wardrobe, jettisoning all the clothes my comedy bump is now unable to squeeze into. 3yo decided to help. He held up a sizeable t-shirt, and said sweetly, “too fat for this one mummy?”
Even 1yo is getting in on the act. Last night my Other Half was asking him a series of “where’s my” questions. “Where’s daddy’s nose?” 1yo dutifully points at daddy’s nose. “Where are daddy’s ears?” 1yo points at daddy’s ears. “Where’s daddy’s hair?” 1yo points at daddy’s hands. Hair is sprouting up them from under his shirtsleeves. I almost spat my tea across the room. I remember something similar happening with 3yo back when he was a tiddler, when he’d just graduated to the big bath from the baby bath, and OH decided to get in with him. I’ll never forget the look on his confused little face as he patted his daddy’s chest, looked at me questioningly, and said “ook ook ook?” Clearly his little brain had just come to terms with the fact that daddy is in fact a monkey.
I’ve had quite a few ‘honesty moments’ lately. Given the choice, 3yo will always choose daddy over mummy for bedtime stories, even though this is my favourite activity of the whole day. I can see why. OH does a mean array of voices and accents, and often changes the words in a book to cause maximum hilarity. It’s a skill I just don’t have. But here was the best one. 3yo decided to inform me at tea time the other day that “daddy is the best cooker.” Adding: “your food is just a bit boring, mummy.” Admittedly I was a little hurt, as I cook most of his meals. But I can’t deny it. OH is an exceptional cook and I am an average one.
Do you take yourself a bit seriously? Harbour any delusions of grandeur? Pop over to mine and see if my kids can’t bring you down a peg or two.