Third pic of something that’s made me happy in 2019. Yes, it’s Duggee. Yes, I’m 45. I got him as a present for my birthday last month. Yes, he’s sat on my bed. Deal with it. Duggee huggee!
We had a little household incident the other day which some may find amusing.
A couple of years ago, I used to take great delight in asking Little Mister what a big boat was called. His mispronunciation of the word “ship” was, to my childish sense of humour, the best thing ever. Especially when I asked him to say it louder as I hadn’t heard. And louder. And louder.
While in the check-out queue at Asda.
This time we has a slightly more private and accidental experience. Words have been changed to make things a little more family friendly. I shall leave it to the reader to translate into “gutter”. I’ve also slightly changed the names, but if you can’t guess who the people are then I recommend you begin your education again with Topsy and Tim just to keep things nice and simple for you.
Mummy Hen (that’s one of the characters I’ve renamed, by the way) was making dinner the other night. Unfortunately, she burnt her hand on one of the oven trays and let out a fairly sincere “Cluck!” (sort of).
Seconds later, a small song was heard from the dining room. Little Mister Hen was singing – to the “Go Compare” tune – “Clucking Bell! Clucking Bell!”
Over. And over. And over.
It’s very hard to tell a
child small chicken off when you’re laughing so hard, especially when they don’t know they’ve done anything wrong
“Yes, Little Mister?”
“Pull my finger.”
“I pumped! High five, daddy!”
Bless, it’s the first time he’s got the finger pull followed by fart in the right order.