Chest

Phoebe and I are in the park, waiting for Emily to come out of school. She is sitting on my lap and stroking my chest while resting her head on my shoulder.

She stops suddenly. "Daddy, why are your boobs getting bigger? And softer?"

Before I even have time to process what she has said, much less construct a robust defence of my toned and manly pectorals, she has started singing a (loud) new song entitled "Daddy is a gur-url! Daddy is a gur-url! Daddy is a gur-url!"

And, to the delight of all, she keeps it up for the rest of the day...

A Phoeble excuse

"Dad, I can't tidy any more!"

"Why not, Phoebe?"

"Because I've broken my foot and it's in a plaster cast."

"That is not a plaster cast. That is a paper napkin that you have inexpertly wound around your ankle. Now please get tidying!"

(Full marks for inventiveness, though...)

I'm eight! I'm eight! It's a very important date!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMILY!!!

A knight to remember

Being so into knights as she is, Emily made this little (1 inch high) fella on the left. My rubbish photo really doesn't do justice to the absolute wow and excellence that is Sir Stropalot. He even has a little face drawn on!

Mens, Womans and Childrens

"Daddy, why do some mens and womans have one children and some have two childrens and some have three childrens?"

"What a good question, my darling. Well, first of all, some mummies and daddies decide they want one child, other decide they want two, and others three. And there are some mummies and daddies who want even more. On the other hand, there are some grown-ups who don't want any children at all."

"I don't want to have any childrens when I'm a grown-up."

"Really, my love? Why's that?"

"Because I don't like-" she cups her hand to her mouth and whispers "sex!"

Saturday (continued)

To The Mall,* where Emily races to the Early Learning Centre.** Because there is an unaccountable lack of small plastic dinosaurs at home. And because a girl can never have too many little plastic men holding swords and shields and wearing helmets...


* Not "the mall", but "The Mall", which is the actual name of the, er, mall.
** Educational toy store.

Saturday

Words cannot describe how much I love Saturdays and Sundays. Or rather, how much I love the fact that our wonderful children get themselves up, go upstairs to watch television, and allow us to surface at whatever time we want (yesterday at 11!).

Thank you girls!

What did I do to deserve that?

I struggle in through the door, kids in tow, and begin setting down the shopping and their bags (we have been to the supermarket on the way home from school). As I bend forward, Emily's schoolbag slips off my shoulder and lands squarely on my foot. It is very heavy.

"Oh dear, that hurt!"* I say calmly**.

"Serves you right!" says Phoebe.

Eh?**



* Or words to that effect.
** Perhaps not all that calmly
** Phoebe later explains that she didn't actually intend to say "Serves you right". However, she was very happy because she herself had caused the bag to land on my foot using her Magic Eyes, and so her exclamation was meant to have more of a "Yessssss" quality about it. So that's alright then...

Charades

Phoebe and I are playing charades. The first card I pick up says "Ice Skating". Well this should be easy enough: she has been ice-skating before, so she knows what it looks like, and in fact she was telling me only yesterday that she would like to do it again. So I stand up, clasp my hands behind my back, and begin 'skating', leaning forward over my left foot as I 'push off' with my right, then shifting my weight to the right as I swing my back foot round to the front, letting my left foot drift 'backwards' so that I can push off with it. It is not long before I am simulating the rhythmic bobbing-gliding-swaying action that is unmistakably that of an experienced ice skater.

"You're a camel!" shouts Phoebe triumphantly.*

* Since I am not in fact an experienced ice skater, and since the only time Phoebe saw me on ice I accidentally did the splits and had to be assisted into a vertical position by at least three people, I accept that my mime - excellent though it was - might have been a touch misleading. It does not however explain why on my next go, when I had to perform the action of "Making a Sandwich", she again decided that I was a camel...