Sunday, 7 October 2018

The Secret Diary of a 3 Year Old

Fell full length onto a big xylophone at the toy shop which made a ridiculous noise. Everyone laughed (including the staff) even though it definitely wasn’t funny. Couldn’t get up properly so sprawled across all of the notes several times, accidentally composing my very own knobhead concerto. Big People acted like they were all concerned but I could tell those pricks were laughing behind their hands.

Daddy lectured me this morning on the importance of vigilance, aim and alertness when attempting a stand up wee. Bit rich coming from the man who pisses like someone holding a watering can on a bouncy castle.

Finally mastered saying sorry really sarcastically. Not only does this style of delivery conclude the latest misdemeanour I’ve committed but it also simultaneously states to my victim: ‘Hey, tit-sweat - I don’t actually give a single fuck about you OR your precious feelings and I would gladly do it all again at the drop of a Harley’s Rusk.’ A powerful tool.

Was getting tucked in for bed. Told Daddy I needed a poo. He doubted my claim and went downstairs. HE WILL NOT DOUBT ME AGAIN. That poor duvet looked like it was sponsored by Bisto.

Mummy thought I was crying because I had water in my eyes. Pay attention, woman! I was crying because you were washing my face and I’d just pissed in the bath!

Made clear I didn’t want the rest of my apple. Daddy threw it in the bin. Cried because my apple was in the bin.

Gutted about the World Cup Final. Had Croatia in the nursery sweepstake.

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