Recently the Parents-of-Four-Boys-Six-and-Under were out of town for the weekend, so I volunteered to spend an afternoon in charge of three of the four. (The had wisely farmed out the
Miniature Drunk to someone who knows out to look after infants).
Off we went to a wildlife park, which was very entertaining for me, except I think it was like going on an outing with the Fun Police for the boys.
'Can you lift up the (insert: big, fluffy, exotic) rabbit?'
'No.'
'Why not?'
'I don't see any signs saying "Feel free to pick up and pat the rabbit"'.
'Huh?'
I bent down and whispered,
'I don't think you're allowed to pick up the rabbit.'' Dad does.'
A few animals later.
'Can we go down there?'
'No, it says staff only.'
'I'm staff!'
'You're four.'
Just before we were about to leave I text Mother-of. 'Had a lovely old time at the park,
unfortunately I arrived with three boys and it appears I am leaving with two boys and a chocolate
ice cream - formerly known as The Three Year Old.'
A few days later Mother-of said she heard this conversation go on in the car.
Three Year Old: ' I
lub Katelastnamewithlisp.'
Four Year Old: 'Are you going to marry her?'
Three Year Old:'Yes.'
Four Year Old: 'Why?'
Three Year Old: 'Because I
lub her.'
When you hear things like that, it just makes me wish they wouldn't ever grow up. However I think their mother would disagree, I would imagine that she is looking forward to the time when the Three Year Old no longer does stuff like swallow a fifty cent piece so his brother doesn't get his hands on it.
