Sign of the times

As Petal bolted through the lounge room she slipped on the floorboards and ended up on her knees... and hands... and chin. Quite unimpressed, she looked at me and asked, "Why didn't you put up a 'wet floor' sign?"

Does she think I keep one in the kitchen cupboard next to the mop and bucket?

Top of the morning

Last night she asked me if I liked morning breath. I told her it's not my breath of choice.

We sat there for a minute in silence. I got the feeling she wanted to give me her opinion on morning breath, so I asked her what she thought of it. This is what she unleashed:

"I like morning breath because I like my morning breath. But I don't like morning breath because I don't like Daddy's morning breath. It smells really horrible. It smells like black apples mixed with Vegemite mixed with disgusting. I really don't like it."

She seemed so relieved to get that off her chest.

In the jeans

Petal has grown so accustomed to wearing skinny-leg jeans that when her dad dressed her in regular ones she complained:
"These jeans are too FAT!"

Hell hath no fury...

Angry at her baby brother, she shouted at him:

"I HATE YOU THE BEST!"

Preschool Idol

It was Petal's news day at preschool yesterday. She had intended to show the class her favourite magazine. At the last minute, she changed her mind and sang this:

"Why don't you bweak my heart
Make it hurt so baaa-aa-aad
Come on give it the best
Nothing less
I want it just like that

Why don't you bweak my heart
Sounds good to me
Do it over again, again, again
You're just what I need
Why don't you bweak my hearrr-arr-arrt"

Did I mention she is four?

Just desserts

After slaving in the kitchen for over an hour, I proudly presented my family with a home-made dessert.

Petal took one mouthful of it, then matter-of-factly asked me:

"Mum, why did you make a pudding out of poo?"

Who's your daddy?

Yesterday she referred to her father as 'David'.

"She's hardly the first child to call her dad by his first name," I hear you say.

His name is not David.