The Secret Diary of an 11 Month Old (Part 18)

MONDAY

The food round here is terrible. And chunky these days too. If God wanted me to chew he would've given me more than three teeth. And the big people are full of shit - they keep saying it's 'lovely' as they tuck into something completely different. Hypocrites.

TUESDAY

Actually wriggled off the sofa today. Wanted to do it for months but the big people have always intervened. Really hurt myself. Cried for ages. Why didn't the big people stop me? Will do it again tomorrow.

WEDNESDAY

Got to stop twatting my head on everything. It was funny at first but it's really becoming a problem now.

THURSDAY

Got abandoned today. Horrible scenes. Was left at this place with loads of other kids. Between you and me, I had the best day ever once I stopped crying. Made sure to scream again when the big people came to pick me up though. You've got to keep them on their toes.

FRIDAY

Still can't crawl. Have tried everything but it's dead hard. Think I'm just gonna start walking instead.

SATURDAY

Big person sneezed today. Definitely the most interesting thing they do. Apart from when they make their face disappear with their hands. That's magic.

SUNDAY

Know this, big people: if you continue to hide peas and other green shite inside my yoghurt I will retaliate with the kind of batshit tantrum you saw this afternoon. Consider this your final warning.

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Comments

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13 January 2017 at 08:12

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Before my kids arrived I swore I’d never shout at them. But choosing how to approach parenthood before your kids are born is like a caterpillar deciding what kind of butterfly they’re gonna be while they’re still building the cocoon. ‘I’ll still do loads of charity work, of course. And I’ll be REALLY nice to moths too, even though they’ll probably hate me because I’ll be so bloody gorgeous.’ Theory and reality are like sugar and shit. I’ve raised my voice to my kids more times than I can count. Often just to shout ‘STOP SHOUTING!’ which I’m aware doesn’t set a great example. ‘You should NEVER shout at your kids.’ And that’s fine. In theory. Because everything’s fine in theory. The Slimfast diet is a piece of piss until day two when you’ve had three hours sleep and someone offers you a Wagon Wheel. Of course, I never WANT to shout at them. I love them more than words can describe. But those you love are also the ones blessed with the innate ability to boil your piss q

We Have a Winner!

Ladies and gentlemen - some news! One recipient of my newsletter is now the 'lucky' (ahem) winner of an exclusive gig from me IN THEIR HOUSE! And that person is... Lyn Morter! Well done, Lyn! (Btw, if anyone from Ofcom is reading, you can check the legitimacy of this result via the Facebook Live video I did last week.) When I informed Lyn that she'd won she simply said, 'I've never heard of you' and 'How did you get my phone number?' so I'm sure that will be a great gig for everyone. (Only joking. She was thrilled.) Thanks to all of you for entering. But what now, Sam? I hear you screaming at your smartphones. Well, I'll be taking things a wee bit easier through August, spending some much needed time with my family after all the touring. But just like that former Governor of California of Austrian descent, I'LL BE BACK (sorry) in September with more blogs, videos and general waffle. I'm also heading b

The Time I Smeared Shit on the Duvet

My wife and I developed our parenting systems through trial and error. One of the earliest rules we’d introduced was that if it was after 5am and one of the babies became unsettled, we wouldn’t waste our time trying to get them back down in their cot - we’d just bring them in with us. After a nice cuddle in our bed, they’d normally settle back down, barring the occasional impromptu fanny gouge or affable bollock kick. (Babies are the most violent sleepers on the planet, easily capable of committing GBH in the middle of reaching for their dummy.) Our twins were six months old. I was fast asleep. At least, the deepest sleep you can get once your kids arrive. My pre-kids sleep used to be the nocturnal equivalent of deep sea diving. Nowadays I’m lucky if I can submerge my toes in a puddle. Early on, my sleep was lighter than a Ryvita biscuit who’d been having it off with a helium canister they’d met on Tinder. Everything woke me up. Some nights I’d just lie there, bewi

Sam Avery

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