I’ve got a what?

Rocket was sitting on my lap when he looked up at me and said:

“You got a cock.”

I was a little disturbed for two reasons. 1) Where had he heard that word? 2) Why did he think I had one?

“Um, no I don’t,” I explained to him without wanting to make too much of a fuss over his x-rated choice of words.

“You got a cock,” he said again, as he grabbed my wrist and pointed out my watch.

A-ha, my clock.

Pick-up artist

As Petal undressed for her evening shower, she left a trail of clothing from the lounge room to the bathroom.


“Come and pick up your clothes, young lady!” I called out to her.

She came back into the lounge room, took one look at her strewn clothes, then marched off into the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

She trotted back in with a pair of tongs.

“I’m picking up my undies,” she said, as she reached down to snap them up. “I’m not touching them – they’re disgusting!”

Hairy subject

While visiting my mother, Petal drew a picture of her. When Petal showed us her artistic work, my mum and I were a little perplexed by the strange lines Petal had drawn on my mum’s face.


“What are those lines?” I asked.

“They are Gangi’s whiskers”, she replied.

There was an awkward silence while I discreetly checked my mother’s upper-lip for any stray hairs and Petal’s red-faced grandma muttered something about investing in some Veet…

“Gangi’s doesn’t have whiskers,” I assured Petal.

Petal peered long and hard at Gangi’s face.

“Yes, she does,” she nodded. “Look at those lines around her eyes”.

“Ah, her wrinkles!” I exclaimed, turning to my mum and gleefully explaining, “See, you haven’t got whiskers, just lots of wrinkles!”

Oops.

YAWN!

Petal lets out a huge, tonsil-exposing yawn.

“You must be tired,” I tell her.

“No, I’m not,” she protests.

“But I just saw you yawn,” I argue back.

Always with the last word, Petal tells me:

“That’s because my mouth is tired, but I’m not!”