The Secret Diary of a 21 Month Old (Part 29)

MONDAY

Pissed on my favourite book today. Saw the dog doing it once and figured it’s the best way to stop other people reading it. Totally worked as Mummy threw it in the bin. Problem solved.

TUESDAY

Cried because my favourite book wasn’t on the shelf. Forgot I pissed on it yesterday. Tried rooting through the bin. Daddy stopped me. Held onto the bin for ages while he tried to pull me away. When that didn’t work he used a friendly, logical, convincing and sensible reason for why I should let go. I held on tighter. Ha! Not gonna fall for that rubbish again.

WEDNESDAY

Went to a party but cried till we left early. Laughed all the way home. Nobody else joined in.

THURSDAY

Big people seemed confused why I was grumpy this morning. I'd like to see what mood you'd be in if you woke up in a puddle of your own piss.

FRIDAY

Had SIX absolute meltdowns today. Two at breakfast, three at lunch and two in the car. Is that seven? Okay, I had SEVEN absolute meltdowns today. Oh and one just before bedtime. So, eight – EIGHT meltdowns. And one in the bath. Crap, that’s nine isn’t it? Or ten if you count when someone stole my crayon in playgroup and I cried so hard I nearly swallowed my own head. Tell you what, let’s call it fifteen to be on the safe side - I had FIFTEEN massive, all-out meltdowns today.

Other than that I was in top form.

SATURDAY

Need to sort my life out. Tried to grab the actual poo from my nappy today. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

SUNDAY

Had a bad dream last night that I was an actual big person. Christ, it was horrible. I had loads to do and no time to do it. And I looked terrible.

(I post a new 'Secret Diary' to my FB page every Tuesday...I'm a stand up comic and dad to toddler twins and you can find my parent blog on my website...or follow me on Twitter or Instagram.)

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16 March 2017 at 14:02

The Time I Screamed at my Kids

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

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

The Time I Got Sent to the Naughty Step

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Sam Avery

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