Something in the air

Petal and I are happily sitting on the couch together, while her baby brother plays at our feet.

"Poo-ey," screeches Petal all of a sudden. "What is that smell?"

I sniff the air but can't pick up on any bad odours.

Holding her nose and grimacing, Petal points to her brother. "I think he's got a poo in his nappy."

I dutifully check but it's all clear.

"Nope, nothing in there," I inform her.

Petal turns to me with her face still screwed up.

"Well Mum, it must be your breath."

Fishing around

Petal finds a box of tampons in my handbag.

"What are these called?" she asked.

Phew, at least she hasn't asked what they are for.

"They're called tampons."

"What do you do with them?"

Shit.

"Er, um, ladies put them somewhere," I answer, vaguely.

"In a pond?" she replies.

Huh? Does she think they resemble gold fish?

"Ah, not usually, why do you think that?" I'm baffled.

She gives me that 'you're so silly, Mum' look before answering.

"Because they are called tam-ponds."

Easy as 1, 2, 3...

I was mentioning to my husband how impressed our son's carers were that he could count to seven. He is only 22 months. I'm referring to my son, not my husband.

Petal overheard our conversation and challenged her baby brother.

"Can you count to five?" she asked him.

He dutifully started, "One, two, three, four, five, six..."

"You can't do it," she gloated. "I said five and you counted to six!"

Don't impress me much

Petal's baby brother is learning to say new words every day.

Today he said, "DVD".

"Well done, little fella, you said 'DVD'!" I exclaimed with great enthusiasm.

Petal was not impressed.

"He didn't say DVD," she grunted. "He only said 'Video'."

Red sky in the morning...

To make this morning's dust storm even more exciting for Petal, I commented that the sky outside our window that looked like this...



... kinda looked like the sky on Avatar that looked like this:



Petal looked at me, looked out the window, looked at the TV, then turned back to me.

"No, it doesn't," she sighed, shaking her head.

Oh well, I don't think I'll be the subject of a mymumisfunny blog anytime soon.

Puzzling

Petal called me at work.

"Mummy, I'm at the shops with Daddy..."

"Yes..."

"Can I buy a puzzle? It's got a cute, little baby in it," she pleaded.

"Sure, darling. It sounds lovely. Tell Daddy I said it was okay."

This was not what I expected to see when I got home:




So useful if Petal plans to be an gyneocologist one day...

My kid is... disgusting

Petal asked me, "Mummy, smell my finger?"

This could only end badly, so I told her, "No way."

"But it smells like strawberry," she assured me.

She had been blowing strawberry-scented bubbles earlier, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt and went in for a whiff.

It smelt like fish. There are only two things that smell like fish and she hadn't been near the one with scales.

"That is disgusting!" I told her.

Her defence?

"My friend Vagina does it all the time."

For the first time ever, the mispronunciation of Jemima's name seemed quite fitting.