Bertie (and Linda)

Bertie had put on his pyjamas, amazingly, in record time.

Only to have to take them off again for his bath.

He wasn’t awfully pleased.

It didn’t stop the endless chatter, though.  He talked me through his day at playgroup with Linda.

“Mummy. You like me.” He announced.

“I do?” I asked.

“Yes. Remember? I’m a character.”

“Linda said so.”

Too Much Mars!

He came out of playgroup as full o’ beans as he went in, Tiggered all the way home, and collapsed on the sofa.

“Can I watch a film?”

“Okay, sweetie.”

A Disney (almost unavoidable), the music began, opening credits rolled and the fairytale castle appeared.

As I walked away, his little voice announced, laden with excitement:

“MISSILES!”

“No, darling…

…Fireworks.”

Overheard in the Post Office

Assistant: “Just pop your card in there, and then tap in your PIN when I say”.

Very elderly lady: “Dear? Would you mind typing the numbers in for me? I can never see them properly: it’s terribly fiddly”.

Assistant inserts card.

Assistant: “Okay, we’re ready. Now, what’s the number?”

Lady, visibly shocked: “I couldn’t tell you that, dear. It’s secret!”

Do we just make up our own words now?

It’s time for another crackdown.

He just can’t help himself. No sooner in his head than out of his mouth.

Loud.

“I’m going to make anyone who’d like some a hot chocolate.” I announced to the other grown-up in the room.

He burst in, mid-conversation, with “I’d like some!”

“What did you do then, Bertie?”

“I upterumpted.”

I love him.

More Toddler Wisdom

He whisked my three-year old away to make a “surprise” birthday card for me.

“I drawed you a tank, Mummy!”

I digress.

The conversation, apparently, went thus:

“Bertie, what are you going to be when you grow up? Are you going to be an artist?”

He was met with scorn.

“No….”

A pitying look.

“…I’m gonna be a big boy!