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Sunday, February 13, 2011

I'm currently looking after Amelie while Lisa's at church, praying for our souls. Obviously, under those circumstances, a lot of men would like to have a pretty girl running about the place in a fur coat and no knickers, but in my case it's a potty training two-year-old who won't put her underwear on and is insisting on wearing her coat. Possibly because I haven't turned the heating on.

I've just emptied her potty, which contained a small amount of wee-wee and a handful of Rice Krispies. I'm viewing that as a slight improvement. Usually she dips her toes in it and tries to give her dolphin a drink.

The inevitable crisis moment of the morning, however, came about half an hour ago. I was in the kitchen, making some hot sweet tea to calm my nerves, when I heard a blood-curdling cry of pain from the next room, where Amelie was searching down the side of her cot for a guitar, so that she could sing 'Old MacDonald Had a Farm'.

I rushed in there to find Amelie getting to her feet in tears, so I picked her up, gave her a hug, and said "Where did you hurt yourself?"

She sobbed on my shoulder for a few seconds, then lifted her head, and through the tears wailed: "IN... MY... BEDROOM!!!"

I wasn't quite sure how to kiss that better.


Dave said...

I was going to say something about knickerless ladies inciting all sorts of things, but thought that might draw attention to your typo.

Phil said...

Typo, what typo?

Phil's Mum said...

She has the precise mind of a budding writer!