Fawlty Dad Lives

In my head I'm one of those hip parents that let embrace alternative paradigms about children. I try to talk to them like they're human beings and put big thoughts into their heads, and teach them stuff that floats round my mind, useful and useless stuff. Of course, that's only when we're not trying to avoid some sort of supernannyesque apocalypse.

There have been a few successes, Graham, being the most notable.

You see Graham's Number is an unimaginably large number . It's very, very, very big and strangely ends in a 7, Google it. I taught my children about big numbers and how they don't really exist etc etc. Part of it is the hope that the teacher will ask them for a big number one day and they'll say Graham, the teacher will look quizzically and they can say 'google it'. What a wag I am.

Anyway, this is how the conversations go round here.

Me: I love you

Peanut: I love you too

Me: I love you three

Peanut: I love you Graham

I feel warm and fluffy and we cuddle.......isn't that sweet.

Today I bought a new tool and Peanut was asking me what it was,  so in the interests of education and being no respecter of gender stereotypes I told her.

Every 5 year old girl should know the name of basic tools, she looked at me and I instantly realised that again I'd made a cataclysmic parenting mistake.

Carefully and thoughtfully she mouthed the words into a question, 'A bastard file daddy?'

As my blood ran cold I could feel Fawlty dad rise again.