|photo credit: en.wikipedia.org|
These days my conversations run pretty much something like this.
Me: What did you do in school today?
Me: What kind of stuff?Child: Mammy, stop telling me questions. You’re giving me a headache! (And without pausing for breath) Mammy, which tree does chocolate grow on?
Child: Mammy, can we make daddy a birthday cake?
Me: That's a great idea, Con!
Child: A chocolate one, Mammy?
Child: With jelly babies on top?
Me: He'd love that, Con.
Child: And what about ham, Mammy?
Child: Mammy? What about ham? With nuts, like the bakewell you make. Mammy? How do you know how to make bakewell?
Me: (Still mentally hurling at the idea of a chocolate ham cake) Em, your Nana taught me, Con.
Child: Oh. Mammy? Mammy!! Mammy! I'm going to change into a Super Alien and smash the bad lads up.
Me: Eh, on you go son. Knock yourself out!
Child: Mammy, can you fly?
Me: Only off the handle, Con.
Child: What, Mammy?
Me: No, Con. I can’t fly.
Child: That’s ok, Mammy. Coz I can.
Child: Mammy! Come back in here. Quick!
Me: What’s wrong?
Child: Oh, it’s ok. I thought your belly looked bigger in the other room. I thought it was a B-A-B-Y.