Cracking up

One thing I didn’t expect to worry about as a parent was whether my three-year-old would address strangers as “you stupid bum crack.” But that did actually happen when BUB.2 was three. It was around about the same time he and his older brother invented an imaginary horse bum crack flavour ice cream. Ben & Jerry’s have missed a trick, surely?

He and his older brother invented an imaginary favourite ice cream flavour: “Horse bum crack flavour.” Very rustic. Ben & Jerry’s have missed a trick, surely.

He also used to run around shouting “Shit hot!” for ages before I realised he’d been watching a video on my iPhone of a sheep being sheared. Sheep hot. Sheep.¬†Another of my farmyard loving son’s cries in public was¬†“Mummy whore!” which he used to sing repeatedly at the top of his voice when he wanted to go and see some horses in our local woods.

He also used to run around shouting “Shit hot!” for ages before I realised he’d been watching a video on my iPhone of a sheep being sheared. Sheep hot. Sheep.

But my absolute favourite BUB.2 howler was when WW was going to take them off to his parents’ house a few months ago for a whole weekend so I could get some precious uninterrupted hours to actually bloody work in peace.

BUB.2 When’s Dad going to bugger us? ME: WHAT?? BUB.2: When is he going to bugger us? When are we going to bugger off? To Grandma’s?”

Whoops, language. I missed them terribly, of course.

 

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