Done with errors

Child#2 [talking to one of the other mums at school]: “Do you know, my mummy and daddy go to sleep in the same bed. My daddy goes on the farty side and mummy goes on the nice side.”

[Child #2 is helping empty the dishwasher]

Mummy: “Be careful of the sharp knife”

Child#2 [handing it over carefully]: “Here you go Mummy. Careful not to sharp you.”

Child#2: “Daddy, where are you going?”

Daddy: “Work”

Child#2: “Is that near our school?”

Daddy: “No, it’s in Miseryland”

Child#2 [concerned]: “But that’s so far away.”

[directed towards me]

Child #2: “You stink. I’m going to chop your bottom off.”

Child #1: “I’m going to punch your face right through your winkie.”

[We’ve been teaching Child#1 how to say ‘Cheers’ in French]

Child#1 [Raises her glass]: “Salad”

Child#2: “Look, ducky’s making a chuffle!”

[We can’t think of a word that describes the trail something makes as it’s dragged across a beach, so ‘chuffle’ it is.]

I very rarely get wrong numbers on my mobile. Maybe once a year. Once a year, that is apart from one particular week, when I’m abroad and Virgin Mobile are charging me £1 to pick up a message. During those times I’ll get two or three. Old Jamaican ladies asking their sons to come and pick them up, lads from Newcastle… whoever. It appears that while on holiday and picking up the tab for them these messages come in with increasing frequency.

Child#2: “Peary dogs”

Child#2: “Dreggins”

Child#2: “that’s daindrous”