Having celebrated the glorious wisdom (or at least, seriously off-kilter logic) of my ridiculous 3-year-old boy, I thought I’d better even things up by admitting to the eight most embarrassing things he’s ever said. (Obviously, my desire to reveal the meaner side of my son has nothing to do with him waking me up horrifically early after I went to bed at 4am…)
I’ve discovered in 3.5 years that there is no force of humiliation more potent than one small boy who doesn’t filter…
1) During the utter silence between prayers during a Christening, he decided he wanted to drive his car over my lap, and called out in ringing tones across the church hall:
“Close your legs, Mummy!”
2) Walking across the common on the way home of an evening, we approached two slightly intimidating looking guys walking with a swagger going the other way.
R: I’m going to call those two people Ruffy and Caggy.
Me: Err, that’s nice. Why?*
R: Because they look a bit rough and a bit cag.
(I don’t even know what cag means, but the two guys didn’t seem to think it was complimentary. Cue sudden desire to run towards the next bridge with one three-year-old.)
3) At dinner with some lovely friends, who have an angelically behaved child, he decided it would be the perfect time to break a sausage in half and drop a piece on the floor with each hand. (This was only the start…)
Me: (mortified) Rufus! You don’t do that! What do we say?
R: (thinking for a moment, then hitting himself on the head) Don’t do it again!
I have never felt more like he was intentionally trying to get taken away by social services, and I can only hope that I somehow convinced said friends that that wasn’t a standard evening at home round our house…
4) After we turned up somewhat late and harassed (well, one of us was harassed) to his friend’s party, I tried to apologise to the parents of the friend in question.
Me: Sorry we’re late. We were a bit tired this morning!
R: I wasn’t tired. Mummy was in bed because she wasn’t feeling very well because she had too many drinks in the night.
Not much I could say to that one, so I distracted attention by stealing a balloon off a small girl and throwing it to the far end of the room. I think I just about covered it up with the ensuing chaos.*
(*I really didn’t cover it up.)
5) As I’ve mentioned in The 35 Things about Being a Parent that Scare the Thingy Out of Me, I try very hard never, ever to swear in front of my son. We can save that for when I want him to look cool on the playground. But just occasionally, when having a really bad day, I fail. And probably the worst instance of this happened one morning when I’d lost my car key, and had a bit of a strop about it just before some of my lovely neighbours appeared with their small child at the end of the driveway.
R: I don’t know, Mummy. Where is your %^&*ing car key?
You know when you see people wince and move their child further away from you? Yup. That happened.
6) It’s also always interesting having a small child interact with your boyfriend. Particularly a boyfriend who loves winding you up about how much older you are than he is (but I’ll get my own back on him in another blog post on another day…). That means conversations such as the following are not all that popular with me:
R: Shall I tickled you, Mummy?
Me: Don’t tickle me! I’ll tickle you…
R: Let’s wibble Mummy’s belly! Look!
(Before I could respond, he’d proceeded to lift up my t-shirt and display how much of a wibble it had. Which naturally is ACTUALLY NOT THAT MUCH WIBBLE, IT WAS JUST BECAUSE I WAS SLOUCHING!)
Cue one kind and courteous boyfriend laughing until I subtly battered him round the head. I’m such a good role model.
7) Whilst having a lovely family Christmas gathering, his uncle kindly decided to whizz R around like an aeroplane. He discovered, as we all do fairly quickly, that a particularly tall 3.5 year old is murder on the arms, and put him down fairly rapidly.
R: Pick me up again!
Uncle D: In a minute. I just need to do something else for a minute.
R: (fixing him with a stare that kid off The Omen would have been proud of) Liar.
Good work there, R. Way to look like a sweet, good-tempered and lovely child like I’m always trying to claim…
8) Or there was that other time, when his Grandpa (who is not called Grandpa, but only ever Grumps, which doesn’t make us all sound great either) was with us for lunch and talking about doctors. Rufus appeared to be otherwise occupied with building a lego pick-up truck.
Grumps: … You’d think they’d give them some training before letting them stick a knife in someone.
R: (in a low voice, without looking up from the lego) I’ll stick a knife in someone.
Me: Rufus!! That’s not a nice thing to say!!
R: (looking up, indignant) Not someone here! Someone you don’t know!
Great. Because that entirely removed all suspicion from everyone present that I may actually have brought up my own Hannibal Lecter.
So now you all know. I have little to say in my defense, except that I’m sure every single instance was purely coincidental and can be entirely explained away.
Now make me feel better and tell me below what your delightful children have managed to say to humiliate you…
*Never, ever ask this just as you’re drawing level with the people your son is talking about.
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