Skip to main content

The Secret Diary of a 2 Year Old (Part 39)


MONDAY
Went to soft play centre this morning and couldn’t wait to get on the slide. Was so excited to slide down in my super slidey pants and super slidey socks and I was flying down the slide and got a bit too excited and turned round halfway down and CUT MY FUCKING HEAD! How can you call it a ‘Soft Play’ when there’s hard bits all over the place? Cried so much I couldn’t breathe for a while. Got given a lollipop so stopped crying and started breathing. Tried to go back on the slide but wasn’t allowed with my lollipop. Finished lollipop quickly but STILL wasn’t allowed back on. Gutted because I’d wolfed down my lollipop and had my super slidey pants on. Started crying again. Wanted another lollipop but got offered fruit. FUCKING FRUIT! WITH A HEAD INJURY! Do me a favour. If I’m bleeding, I want sugar. Simple as. Cried all the way home in my super slidey pants.

TUESDAY
Another stand-off at lunchtime today. What can I say? Some days I like chicken, some days I don’t. Some days I like beef, today I preferred my shoe. Tomorrow I might fancy a bit of fried rubber with a side order of fuck all - who knows? I can’t help it if my tastebuds are all messed up. It’s Mother Nature, man.

WEDNESDAY
Had a raspberry conversation with my own arse this evening. We chatted about all sorts. Tried to start it up again later but things got a bit heated and I accidentally shat myself.

THURSDAY
Really want to go to nursery with no clothes on tomorrow. They probably won’t let me, as per usual. Why is this never an option? I reckon most people would prefer it. Might try and start a movement.

FRIDAY
Saw my own reflection whilst having a poo today. Christ almighty. Have I been pulling that face the whole time? I look like Mummy when she steps on Lego.

SATURDAY
Got subjected to the entire weekly shop again. Used to love those trolleys but I get so bored now. There’s endless havoc I could be unleashing around the supermarket but instead I’m treated like a prisoner. Was crying on the way out and some old lady said, ‘Ooh, he’s not a happy bunny is he?’ Of course I’m not fucking happy - I’m strapped to a barbaric metal contraption in the middle of Aldi while my little life passes me by. And if I don’t know you, don't touch my face, okay?

SUNDAY
The Big People need to get their stupid heads around the fact that sometimes I simply do not need or want to sleep. Just because I’m screaming, rubbing my eyes and yawning doesn’t mean I’m tired. Most of the time I’m just fuming that yet again, they’ve taken me away from playtime. There’s so much entertainment to be seen and when they incarcerate me in my cot I’m missing all the crucial parts. That mirror in the hallway? Incredible. Slapping the window sill? Priceless. Interrupting Daddy on the toilet? NEVER GETS OLD.

(I'm a parent blogger, stand up comic and dad to toddler twins. I post a new 'Secret Diary' to this FB page every Tuesday and I'm also on Instagram.

Comments

Benny said…
Because of the actual hermetically covered rolex replica sale screwed lower in front, back again as well as overhead the actual view carried out with no problem. It had been an amazing discovery, and something which steered rolex replica uk for the popularity it's these days, however the view by itself just composed 1 / 2 of the actual elements required for the actual achievement rolex replica uk targeted with regard to. Another fifty percent originated from the company a part of their mind, the actual rolex replica sale which understood whenever, exactly where as well as how you can market their manufacturer. Taking advantage of the actual replica watches uk trip, Wilsdorf required away the front-page advertorial within the Every day Postal mail, praising the actual amazing task for an target audience associated with thousands and thousands. In order to limit this away, he'd their rolex replica sale show the actual Oyster immersed inside a aquarium, the demo which wowed crowds of people using its audacity.

Popular posts from this blog

The Secret Diary of a 23 Month Old (Part 36)

MONDAY It really boils my piss when the Big People laugh at my tantrums. I know to them it probably appears that I’m just losing my shit at every possible opportunity but they must understand, different things matter to me. I’m not an adult. I don’t have a career or a mortgage. My teeth are killing and my only proper friends are my relatives so when you sing the wrong verse to Old McDonald it totally feels like the end of the world to me. TUESDAY Watched a brilliant video on Mummy’s phone of some kids dancing into their Daddy’s room when he was having a meeting. If my Daddy ever has a conversation anywhere near that important I’m definitely going to do the same. Those kids are an inspiration. WEDNESDAY Went to the park but they wouldn’t let me off those stupid reins. Kept telling me it was just my special ‘Big Boy Bag’ I had to wear. What kind of bag has a big fuck-off lead attached to it? I’m not stupid you know. And anyway, I only wanted to run down the hill and across...

#30: The 12 Different Types of Nappy

Opening your baby’s nappy is like a box of chocolates – you never know what you’re going to get and you’ll probably end up with sticky fingers. My twin boys are 10 weeks old and these are the 12 types of nappy I’ve encountered so far. (If you’re eating your dinner I recommend reading this a bit later on.) 1.The Leak (AKA The Pooseidon Adventure ) It’s everywhere except in the nappy itself. Worse still, it’s leaving a trail. If Hansel and Gretel had a leaking baby with them the story would’ve ended happily. This type makes me actually doubt gravity. How can something that goes down end up on their shoulder? If it wasn't so gross you'd stand up and applaud. Unfortunately you can’t even enjoy the irony of removing a sleepsuit with bum juice up the back and ‘Too Cute’ across the front. (There are many causes of The Leak , one of which I covered in it’s full gory detail here. ) 2.The Tardis (AKA The Turdis , The Doctor Poo ) This is when the amount of was...

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...