One of the very best things about three year olds is listening to their logic. They’re finally big enough to string their thoughts together and put them into some sort of coherent sentence, and you get a chance to have a peek into their world. It’s usually beautifully logical, and beautifully wrong.
Kitty used to come up with some incredible suggestions when she was three, that all made perfect sense in her mind, and she still has her moments; the other day she said she wished Mama and Daddy both got to stay home all day and so we told her that much as we’d like that, one of us really did have to go to work so that we could go on nice adventures, and gently tried to connect the concept of my working with earning money so we could do the shopping;
“but we could use the Nectar card!”
came the response.
Now I know loyalty points are a wonderful thing, and it’s always exciting to feel like you’re getting your shopping for free, but I’ve yet to find a mortgage company that accepts than (alas!).
And now Elma’s that little bit older and full to the brim with ideas about how the world works she’s started to come out with her own little phrases. Except that where Kitty’s were all questions about the world around her, Elma is a three year old fount of wisdom. She has some very important advice for anyone seeking to wend their way through the world and a fabulous habit of delivering it at the most seemingly random times, usually to H and usually as he’s driving.
It was while driving up to playgroup that I’m told a little voice cheeped up in the back of the car:
“Daddy. You shouldn’t get in the bath with your clothes on.”
Well that makes perfect sense, if a little bit of a jump from what are we going to have for supper.
The next piece of advice, some days latter did relate to the bathroom, so perhaps there’s a theme there:
“Daddy. You shouldn’t keep your glasses in the toilet.”
And the most recent, which she told us while we were sat at supper;
“Daddy. You shouldn’t put your phone in the middle of the road.”
The casual observer would wonder what on earth we get up to that these, so very correct conclusions, are pieces of advice she thinks her father needs.
But but my very very favourite moment was when a team mate of H’s, sin-binned to the side of the hockey pitch, let forth a stream of language most unbecoming of a gentleman and rather unfit for tiny ears. Elma turned and stared up at him, a diminutive bundle of flower patterned coat topped with a pompom. She gave him a long solemn look and, thankfully ignoring some of the more choice language, declared:
“you shouldn’t say ‘Oh My God’; it’s naughty!”
He has yet to live down being told off by a three year old!
Joining Katie at Mummy Daddy Me for The Ordinary Moments