Under where?

Due to a run of bad weather, it's been a little longer than usual between loads of washing. I had no choice on the weekend than to rummage through my drawer to find my rainy day (literally) underpants. This will explain why I was wearing a cream, lacy g-string under my leggings as I did the housework.

Petal was quite surprised to see these sexy knickers poking out as I was bending over. She ran to me and gave them a huge tug. Yes, a wedgie.

I squealed, "What are you doing?"

"Oh Mummy, your undies are stuck up your bottom. I'm getting them out for you."

Tug, tug.

"No, darling, stop it! They're supposed to be up there."

She continued to yank at them. "No, they're not. I'll get them out for you." Cue more bum-splitting wedgie action.

"Ouch! Stop it!" I squeaked. "They're called a g-string, ouch, and they go up, ouch, ladies' bottoms!"

Petal stopped in her tracks. Oh no, what must she think?

She paused for a moment.

"Mummy, can I wear them?"

Question time

I could hear Petal in the next room talking with her dad. Out of nowhere, she asked him this pressing question: "What colour does Madagascar live?"

WTF?

I was curious to hear how my husband would answer this mind-boggling query. He said the only thing he could, "Sorry darling, but I have no idea what you mean."

Petal paused for a while. "Is it pink?"

In a desperate attempt to escape this senseless inquisition, I heard him say, "Yes, it's pink."

But he wasn't free yet. "Or is it blue?" she asked.

"Ah, yes."

"So, Daddy, is it purple?"

"Huh?"

"Well, pink and blue make purple."

Her tone was 'you're so silly, Dad. Don't you know anything?'

Seeing red

This morning she asks me, "Next week can we paint the car red?"

Where did this come from? "No, darling, we are not painting the car red."

"Why not?"

"Because I like the car the way it is, and I don't want to paint it red."

She thinks about this for a while.

"Okay, Mum, we'll paint it blue."

Who am I?

Petal comes racing into the bathroom as I'm showering. She pulls back the curtain, excitedly squealing, "Who am I?"

She stands there wearing her pink Dora the Explorer underpants over her blue pyjama bottoms.

The pressure to get this answer correct is huge.

"Wonderwoman?" Wrong.
"Super Dora?" Wrong.
"Sorry, Super Dora the Super Explorer?" Huh? Wrong.

The pressure is mounting. If I wasn't in the shower, I'd be breaking into a sweat.

"Super Princess Girl?" Obviously wrong.

I give up...


"I'm Superman!"

For the first time EVER the most obvious answer is the right one.

The good news or the bad news

Yesterday morning, Petal told me what she had planned to say for her preschool 'news day'. She was going to share the joy of receiving a new Tinkerbell dress-up outfit. It's cute and sparkly - really sparkly. There is a button that sets off a rainbow of lights on the dress.

She also had one other piece of news she wanted to share.

Vomit.

"What exactly are you going to say about vomit?" I asked.

"Just vomit."

Okay, this was going to be a tricky one. I gently explained to her that maybe sticking with the Tinkerbell dress news would be a better idea. No. She wanted to add the vomit bit.

That afternoon, I asked how she went with her news. Her face dropped and her big, round eyes filled with tears.

"Mummy, everyone went 'eeeeewwwww'!"

"Oh dear, then what?"

"They all said, 'That's horrible news!'"

"Oh darling, what did you do?"

"I cried and sat on the teacher's knee."

"What did the teacher say?"

"She told all the kids, 'You've ruined her life!'"

I'm pretty certain that's not what the teacher said, but I'm equally sure it's exactly how Petal felt.

Liar, liar

This morning she asks me, "Am I going to preschool today?"

"Yes, you are." I thought she already knew this.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious."

She's taking quite a bit of convincing.

"Are you joking?"

"No, I'm not joking."

Is this a joke?

"Mummy, have you been drunking?"

Drunking! This must be her truncated way of asking if I’ve been drinking so much that I'm drunk - and now I'm making up stories about her going to preschool.

"Darling, Mummy is rarely 'drunking' and especially not at 8am when I've just got out of the shower!"

But I do like this new word: drunking. In just one word it so neatly explains drinking to the point of being drunk.

I'm going to use it. It could take off.

"I'm so hangover because I was drunking last night"... "It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been drunking"... "Let's go out drunking this weekend"...

Buddhism 101 (#3)

She asks me, "Mummy, why does Buddha wear earrings?"

I think, "What next... why does he paint his toenails pink?"

Then I look at the piece of art in the hallway and I notice something: Buddha has the biggest, dangliest earrings I've seen this side of eQuip.

But I still can't answer her question, "Why?"