Three's a crowd

At a party on the weekend, Petal entered her first three-legged race. Her partner was to be her four-year-old mate, but after she broke under the pressure of a rigorous training regime, Petal was left without the required leg count.

Her only option was her little brother. Almost three years younger and a good head shorter, he wasn't an ideal match. But I grabbed the beige pantyhose and tied them together regardless - and there they stood joined at the hip. Well, his hip, her knee.

Ready, set, go! Off they raced, taking on the fierce competition, which included a set of twins who clearly had an unfair advantage from their womb days.

Amazingly, Petal and her little brother didn't trip or fall. Less amazingly, they moved at the pace of an arthritic pensioner. When they finally crossed the finish line metres, minutes, er, eons, after the other three-legged athletes, Petal looked up at me hopefully.

"Did we win?" she asked.

She obviously thought her competitors were out of sight as they were trailing so far behind them. In fact, by then, they were collecting their lolly-bags to leave...

What could I say?

"You were great!" I squealed.

"Yay, we won!" She jumped up and down - as did her brother. But thanks to the pantyhose, he had no choice really.

Little Miss-Pronunciation #2

Yum cha = yum chow

Strangely, it almost sounds better that way.

Rock and toilet roll

I couldn't help but watch Petal wiping her bottom the other day. Yes, I know that sounds weird, but she has the most unusual technique and I was transfixed.

Firstly, she stands to wipe, closing off any easy access. Then she pulls off sheet-after-sheet of paper, while only using one square that her finger invariably pokes through.

And on this particularly occasion, after giving herself an eye-wateringly thorough wipe, she proceeded to check the paper for results.... but her hand was empty. She looked behind her and couldn't see where the paper may have fallen.

To my amusement (and her bewilderment), she was a sporting a toilet-paper tail wedged tightly between her clenched cheeks.

Not funny to me...

As I walked to the bathroom just wearing a pair knickers, Petal gasped:

"Mummy, your boobs are falling down!"

"What do you mean?" I was perplexed.

"They are so LOW!"

Yes, about as low as I felt at that moment.

Splitting hairs

Petal was very impressed by my recent visit to the "hairdress-ups".

Hunger pains

Petal tells me she's hungry, so I ask her what she'd like to eat. Her response:

"I don't know! My brain has gone to my tummy and it can't think!"

The biggest loser

Petal was recently outraged that a friend of hers had laughed at an old man.

"It's not nice to laugh at old people," she explained to me.

"That's right, darling. It's not nice to make fun of anyone."

She agreed, but had one exception. "But it's okay to laugh at fat people."