Conversations With My Daughter #28

August 2012

Once again, my daughter has got hold of a whistle and is marching around the room shouting out more of her rules (I’m typing as she says them, so apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes):

*peeep*
“Don’t put the butter in the bath!”
*peeep*
“Your Mummy goes to work!”
*peeep*
“This is why things are Star Wars!”
*peeep*
“Don’t check out the computer when your daughter says you cannot touch Mummy’s tummy!”

Children-and-anger

*peeep*
“Don’t poo over your cousins!”
*peeep*
“Don’t get lost, just stay with your mother!”
*peeep*
“Don’t eat the nursery!”
*peeep*
“You are fat! You are fat, Daddy! Do the Wii Fit! Now put the ball in there!”
*peeep*
“Don’t put it in your mouth! It’s not sharp. It makes six chicken pox!”
*peeep*
“Don’t bite your mama or dada when you are tired! That’s when you’re sick!”
*peeep*
“More horse please!”

[She is now behind the sofa. Silence, apart from some humming]

…any more?

“No more rules, Daddy!” *peeeep* “No! More! Rules! For! You! Now go in the naughty corner!”

Well, that’s me told.
(and no, I’m not going to give her any “horse”)

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