The Secret Diary of a 3 Year Old

MONDAY

Had a dream that I ruled the world. Everyone did exactly what I said and I got away with absolute murder. It was just like when the grandparents look after me.

TUESDAY

When Mummy dresses me I look awesome but when Daddy does it he just grabs whatever’s nearest. The slovenly shite he threw me in this morning was so mismatched and undersized I half expected him to bundle me into a wheelbarrow and start shouting ‘penny-for-the-guy’ at passers-by.

WEDNESDAY

Got kicked in the face by some bellwhiff on the slide queue. Top lip was caked in black mud. Daddy asked if I was doing Movember. Fuming.

THURSDAY

If it takes 10,000 hours of training to become an expert, today I became a virtuoso at clothing avoidance.

FRIDAY

You know what I love doing? Speaking at normal volume across the opposite side of a busy soft play from Mummy and then getting annoyed that she can’t hear me.

SATURDAY

Finally went on the Gruffalo trail! Was giddy with excitement as we arrived at the deep, dark wood and I’m singing the song and we start walking and even though we don’t see anything for a while, that’s fine because it helps establish the necessary tension for a big reveal later on so we keep on walking and I get a bit tired but I’m still smiling because I badly want to meet the Gruffalo and his mates so we keep on walking up hills and through mud, laugh at another family who are singing about being on a bear hunt (wrong book, douchebags) and keep on walking and I’m wondering why we still haven’t seen fuck all, not even one of the peripheral characters to keep me interested, and then I think I spot him but Daddy explains that’s just an old man having a piss so I get a bit upset and Daddy keeps saying he can see him on the horizon but it’s all lies so we keep walking and I’m about to give up and run into a bush and then WE SEE HIM! So we start running and I fall over into a puddle so I’m crying and soaking wet but Daddy shouts that we’re nearly there so I jump up and we’re running again till we get right up close and see this absolute joke of a Gruffalo that looks more like Brian Blessed so I give him the finger and shit my pants in protest.

SUNDAY

Sang a rousing rendition of happy birthday to Mummy. Her birthday’s in September but that’s not the point, is it?

🤓 I’m doing a UK stand up tour this Autumn! Get tickets here.

Comments

The Time I Smeared Shit on the Duvet

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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 Embarrassed Myself on a Bouncy Castle

Kids love bouncy castles. And why not? They’re bouncy and unpredictable, like Kanye West on a pogo stick. But just like Calpol, crayons and eating your own bogeys, the allure of the bouncy castle tends to dissipate as we reach adulthood. I’m not someone who lists ‘castle bouncing’ as a hobby these days. My kids, on the other hand, love a good bouncy castle. The bouncier the better. The only thing they love more than a GOOD bouncy castle is a REALLY BAD bouncy castle. Especially those ones that haven’t undergone a decent risk assessment since mullets were cool. In fact, the more dubious the health and safety standards appear to a casual bystander, the more keen my kids are to dive on headfirst and find the hazards. So. We’re at a farm park. We’re enjoying the standard parental farm park experience - the kids are interested in everything EXCEPT the very farm animals that we just paid a whopping £37.50 to visit. (BTW - My son’s favourite animal at Chester Zoo was ...

Sam Avery

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