Counting by Callum (9-Oct-09)
One, two, fwee, four, five, six, sebben, eight, nine, ten, ‘leven, twelve, thirteen.... fzz-teen... fffteen?
Conversation a lá Dora (22-Oct-09)
Anya: Can you say, “Arriba”?
Anya: Can you say, “Gracias”?
Elaine: Do you know what gracias means?
Elaine: It means thank you.
Anya: [silent indifference]
Pleasing Conversation (28-Oct-09)
Anya: You don’t say “please” do you Callum?
Callum: Peeese? (very sweetly)
Anya: No, “please” – not “peese”!
Hair Combing Conversation (1-Nov-09)
Anya: Want me to comb your hair?
Anya: Well, then – STOP – DOING – WEIRD – THINGS!
Callum must have kept moving, because next...
Anya: Fine then, I’m not combing your hair EVER AGAIN.
[this conversation then repeated at least three times]
The Button (14-Nov-09)
Callum spots his sword (a collapsible futuristic light-saber style) and grabs it with glee. He starts to brandish it.
Anya: Don’t fight me, I don’t have a sword!
Callum: OK. [turns away]
Anya: Fight the baddies over there. [she points]
Callum: OK. [waves his sword around]
Just a few seconds pass, and she can’t resist getting involved.
Anya: Want me to fight the baddies?
He lets her take over the sword.
Anya: Want me to press the... [she tries to think of what to call it] ...the EVIL SMELL button?
As Experienced by Dad
(Before you read this: we refer to farts as ‘fluffs’ in our household. Not sure why we started doing that – probably because Anya’s child care centre does it. ‘Fart’ is just too uncouth to say aloud, it seems.)
Last Sunday I walked into the kitchen to find Anya clutching at her crotch through her shorts. She looked for all the world like a little boy who urgently needs to go to the toilet. “Do you need to do a wee?” I asked.
Anya looked slightly confused, as if she didn’t understand why I would suddenly ask this. “No,” she answered.
“Then why are you holding your crotch like that?”
She looked a bit sheepish, looked up at me and in a small voice told me. “To squeeze the fluffs out.”