Skip to main content

The Secret Diary of a 2 Year Old

MONDAY
Managed to blag my way into the Big People’s bed. Spent half the night administering cock-punches and vag-kicks. Doubt I’ll be asked back.

TUESDAY
Fell over in a ridiculous fashion that lasted 15 seconds and obviously didn’t hurt in the slightest. It was clearly hilarious but I was still very disappointed in Mummy when she started laughing.

WEDNESDAY
Daddy took me the museum. They had an extensive collection of archaeology and the natural and physical sciences. But mainly, there was a big fuck-off ramp near the bogs.

THURSDAY
Daddy shouted at me today. He never normally shouts so he apologised straight away and looked a bit sad. I told him not to worry as sometimes I can be a right little obnoxious turd and actually, all things considered, he’s pretty patient actually.

FRIDAY
I always seem to be carrying one thing too many which makes me drop absolutely everything. Then I start picking everything up but that one extra thing makes me drop everything again. I really wish there was a simple solution for this.

SATURDAY
Was sitting on the bottom of the stairs AKA The Naughty Step and Daddy wanted to get past. He asked me to move but I wouldn’t so he threatened to put me on the naughty step, not realising I was already on it. I tried to explain this but the moron once again threatened me with the bloody naughty step. So, let me get this straight - YOU WANT ME TO GET OFF THE NAUGHTY STEP OR ELSE YOU’LL PUT ME ON THE NAUGHTY STEP? Mate, you’re useless.

SUNDAY
Daddy was doing MY tits in so I put HIM on the naughty step. He made himself a brew, grabbed the Sunday papers and sat there for ages. The audacity of that man is unreal.


Join my mailing list for exclusive free content and first access to live dates!


🤓 I post a new 'Secret Diary of a 2 Year Old' to my FB page every Tuesday...I'm a stand up comic and dad of toddler twins...If you enjoyed this you'll probably enjoy my book 'Confessions of a Learner Parent' and you can also find me on Instagram @thelearnerparent

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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 waf...

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...