Having kids adds slightly surreal dimension to life, leaving well-intentioned parents bemused, confused... and usually amused. I had one of those conversations with 12-year-old Kidling Grand (a.k.a. No.1 & Only Son) last night:
He: "Ooh Mum, look what's on the telly. The world's tallest man is in Greece and he's looking for a wife."
Me: "Too late, I'm already married and I really don't fancy another wedding."
He: [shooting withering look in my direction] "We should introduce him to Ilias in Year 3 at my school. He's already over two metres tall."
Me: "Um, isn't Ilias a BOY??"
He: "Who knows?" [shoots me a wicked grin, grabs another hunk of bread and scoots off to bedroom to twiddle with leccy guitar]
But this is the same child (does he still qualify as a child with 13th birthday just 2 months away?) who started telling me the story of a Superhero/God named.... Guildford.
He didn't get very far, just looked in amazement as Mum rolled around on floor, in fits of helpless giggles. If I'd stopped to listen maybe I'd have learned something about the Arch Villain Leatherhead, his legions of evil minions (the Crawleys) and the punishments Guildford will mete out to the bad guys he catches (Woking? Climping-by-Sea? Lancing? Epping?).
Oh the joys and all that....
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment