Santa wolf

Our three-year-old boy loves Frozen Planet and is excited about Christmas for the first real time this year. Just as I was putting him to bed, he announced a new mash-up: Santa Wolf.

‘What noise does he make?’ I asked him.

‘He goes like this, Daddy: Ho ho ho harooooooo!’


‘Daddy, you smell…’

Me: ‘I can’t lay my head on your pillow tonight because I haven’t had time for a shower and I’m all sweaty from my bike ride home.’
Boy Wonder: ‘Did you get wet?’
Me: ‘No, I’m all sweaty from my bike ride. If I lay on your pillow it’ll get sweaty as well. Do I smell?’
Boy Wonder sniffs my damp hair. Nods.
Me: ‘What do I smell of? Sweat?’
Boy Wonder: ‘No… you smell of poo… and doggies.’
Me: ‘Thanks, son. Anything else?’
Boy Wonder: ‘Another doggy.’


‘Is she ont breast?’

A couple in their seventies take a shine to Little Buddha in the supermarket. After a few minutes of cooing, the man tries to extricate his finger from Little Buddha’s hand but she holds tight.
Man: ‘Bloody hell, she’s got some grip on her. Is she ont breast?’
Duchess: ‘Er, no.’
Man: ‘Problems latching love? Never mind, maybe next time.’
Duchess: ‘My husband doesn’t want any more, says we’re too old.’
Man: ‘Give over. You don’t look a day over 28. Cook him a meal, feed him a few beers and you’ll be well away. Right little lady, give my finger back.’


‘It wasn’t my fault’

Boy Wonder: ‘Is that our new toaster?’
Me: ‘It is, yes son. Our old one blew up.’
Ten seconds later…
Boy Wonder: ‘Daddy, the toaster wasn’t my fault.’
Me: ‘No, it wasn’t.’
Boy Wonder: ‘It wasn’t Baby Sister’s fault.’
Me: ‘No.’
Boy Wonder: ‘It wasn’t Daddy’s fault.’
Me: ‘That’s right.’
Boy Wonder: ‘It was Mammy’s fault. She’s very naughty.’
Me: Smiling. Good to see he’s already learnt the Blame Game.