Skip to main content

The Secret Diary of a 2 Year Old (Part 48)

Started squeezing a turd out and the Big People asked me if I was having a poo. Listen, chaps – if my face looks like I’m giving birth to a fucking hedgehog it’s quite safe to assume that I’m mid-shit. Okay?

Got really wound up today when I couldn’t open a page on a chunky flap book. Mummy explained that it wasn’t actually two pages stuck together but just the one page, what with it being a chunky flap book but despite all the evidence pointing in her favour I wasn’t totally convinced until I’d ripped the whole thing to smithereens.

It really boils my piss when the Big People tell me something doesn’t matter. The reason I’m covering my entire torso in my own snot and tears is because it absolutely does matter. At least to me, right now. One day, when the dust has settled, maybe we’ll all be able to look back on this incident and have a little chuckle together but in the heat of the moment, it’s Armafuckingeddon. Because that toast was clearly cut into the wrong shape.

Only wanted to be near Mummy today. Couldn’t even bring myself to look at Daddy’s stupid face.

Was badgering Daddy to read me a book while he was making lunch. He said he’d read it to me in a minute which is kind of useless really as I’ll have completely lost interest in a minute. It’s now or never, fatty.

Felt rubbish today so Mummy said I could help her make breakfast. It was such a great feeling to be an integral part of the team, doing really important tasks like fetching spoons from the drawer and closing the fridge. Then she wouldn’t let me carry the freshly boiled kettle across the kitchen and at that point it became clear that my input wasn’t really being taken seriously so I screamed like Daddy did when I bit him in Aldi.

Daddy was on the toilet so I tried to return the favour and help him wipe his bum but he didn’t seem very grateful so I went to fiddle with the baby gate at the top of the stairs. Somehow managed to pick the lock and the bloody thing opened so Daddy went bananas and jumped up to close it again but because his pants were round his ankles he had to walk like a penguin until he got to the landing and then he hit the ground like a sack of shit. When he saw I was okay and the gate was shut he went back to the toilet. I wish I could talk properly as I would’ve asked him if he was having a poo. See how he likes it.



Popular posts from this blog

3 y/o kicks me in balls...

3 y/o kicks me in balls I fall to ground He offers to kiss it better I politely decline He gets upset I explain nuance of appropriate behaviour while writhing around in total agony Wife arrives I ask her to kiss it better She declines with fury Will cherish these family memories  šŸ’—


Had my first anxiety dream about the tour last night - despite everyone having tickets nobody turned up because there was a national babysitters strike... šŸ˜‚   (I had no pants on either but that’s standard for anxiety dreams isn’t it, guys? Guys?) So please do ensure you book a non-unionised babysitter before getting your tickets here: Tour starts in October and runs through till next March. Can’t wait to see some of you there.  šŸ‘ šŸ¤“