Me: “Why not?”

Teddy: “Because you are a man.”

Me: “Why does that mean I can’t come to your party.”

Teddy: “Only ladies and girls can come to my party.”

Me: “Why is that?”

Teddy: “Because men and boys can’t come to my party.”

Me: “Why can’t men and boys come to your party.”

Teddy: “Because only ladies and girls can come to my party.”

This circular argument repeats for as long as one is prepared to question the logic.

On the subject of “affinity” he recently asked, “What is the last number?”.

Mum: “There isn’t a last number, they go on forever.”

Teddy: “But what’s the last one.”

Mum: “There isn’t a last number, they go on forever.”

Teddy: “Is it more than 66.”

Mum: “Yes.”

Later Mum refers to 200 of something to which Teddy says, “You are just joking Mummy. 200 doesn’t exist”.

My crocodile impression must be coming on by leaps and bounds.

Daddy I had a dream. I was at Nanny Jackie’s house and there were two… two… two wheels. They were snakes and they were chasing me round the house. Nanny Jackie got them away from me but they still came back and chased me round and round until it was time to go home. Mummy caught their heads in the door and they went flat and died. They didn’t cry. They just whinged. A lot. They whinged very loudly. It made my ears hurt.

Me: “Not that old. Get your swimming trunks off.”

T: “We are two old men.”

M: “I may be old but I’m not deaf.”

T: “Daddy, we are two old cats.”

M: “Miaow!”

T: “We are two old dogs.”

M: “T Shirt”

T: “We are two old ladies.”

M: “Pants”

T: “Daddy, we are two old baby girls.”

M: “Pants, Teddy. Put your pants on NOW! We’re going.”

T: “Daddy, we are two old men.”

Teddy: “No it isn’t.”

Me: “It is, Mummy says so and she knows everything.”

Teddy; “No she doesn’t.”

Me: “Yes she does.”

Teddy: “No she doesn’t because she wears things all day.”

Teddy: No I aren’t.

Me: No, I am not. The correct way to say it is: ‘No I am not’. But in fact you are. There’s more water outside the bath than in it.

Teddy: No I aren’t… No I am’nt… No I’m narmt.

It’s depressing. He’s only four but already a patois is taking hold that is some considerable distance from English. It has nothing to do with his tender years. I blame the parents for sending him to a nursery where his primary carer’s command of the language is less than exemplary.

Every day he comes home with a note detailing his key performance indicators: how he has interacted with others, what he has eaten and if he has been involved in any accidents. The note last week included the information that, ” Teddy eat all his lunch” and “he eat all his pudding to”. With guidance provided by the author of this note what hope is there that he will ever conjugate his verbs correctly.

That aside, I recently heard him referring to somewhere called ‘In-ger-lund’ and asking for a drink of ‘mulk’.

Time to move.

But had I been happy, the very asking of the question would have been cause for sadness. Does my son think I’m unhappy? Why would anyone ask that question unless they thought that there was a distinct possibility that the person being asked was indeed unhappy? And was I mistaken in thinking there was something about the tone in which the question was delivered that further confirmed my suspicions?

What have I done, or said, to make him think I’m unhappy?

Is he unhappy? Is my perceived unhappiness causing him distress?

“It’s seven o’clock Daddy.”

My, doesn’t time fly when you’re having fun.