A Plea to my Children

Little Miss and Duke, please, don't wake me up in the middle of the night because:

1. You're cold, when you know perfectly well how to pull up the duvet;
2. because you think I didn't come up and snuggle you again when I did, only you were asleep;
3. Or simply because you've trumped so often and so loudly that you've woken yourself up and you think someone else should share the experience.

School

Oh God, I knew I should have paid more attention at school..

"Mummy, why are there trees?"
"Er, well, um, let me see, er, well they're part of um, nature! And, er, they hold the earth together..." (WHAT?)

"Mummy, why is the moon out?"
"Er, well, um, let me see, er, well you know who knows aaalll about the moon?
"Who?"
"Big Grandad. Ask Big Grandad, he knows all about the moon!"

"Mummy, why is the moon high high up?
"Ah well, because we're a planet, and the moon is a planet, and the planets are very very very very far away from each other."
 
"Why, Mummy?"

Uh-oh

Left 3-year-old Little Miss in sole charge of watering a house plant.

What the bloody hell was I thinking?

Plant now on life support, prognosis is grim...

Least favourite conversation of the week...

It's bedtime, and I'm putting on Little Miss' pyjamas when she asks:

"What are those, Mummy?" she says, pointing to my face.
"What are you looking at?" I say
"Those," she says, pointing at my forehead.

I look at her perplexed until I realise... she is pointing at my wrinkles...

"Oh, you mean these?" I say, pointing to the deep furrows on my forehead which I happily ignore most of the time...

"Yes," affirms Little Miss
"They're wrinkles," I say, not particularly enjoying the way this conversation is going...

"Have I got wrinkles?"
"No, you're too young for wrinkles."
"Has Duke got wrinkles?"
"No, he's too little too."
"When will I get wrinkles?"
"When you're thirty-seven."
"Am I thirty-seven?"
"No, you're three."
"Are you thirty-seven?"
"Yes I am."
"When will I be thirty-seven?"
"Not for a long, long, LONG time my dear."


Part II

We're driving in the car...

"Mummy, why are you cross?"
"I'm not cross, poppet! Why do you think I'm cross?"
"You look cross."
"Oh, do you mean because I'm doing this?" I say, pointing (again) to my furrowed brows
"Yes"
"I'm not cross poppet, I'm just concentrating."
"Why are you 'trating?"
"Because I'm driving."
"Why are you 'trating while you're driving?"
"I'm con-cen-trating so that we don't get lost."
"Are we lost?"
"No, we're not lost because I am concentrating!"
"But you're not cross."
"No," I sigh inwardly, "I'm not cross poppet."

Anyone fancy recommending a wrinkle-erasing cream?

Favourite comment of the week

"Mummy, can you pass me the lettuce please?"

At last, irrefutable evidence that I must be doing something right...