A snippet of conversation from this morning, upon the presence of a certain, distinctive aroma in the room:
Me: Felix, do you need your nappy changed?
Felix: (Shakes head) No
Me: But have you done a poo?
Felix: (sing-song voice) No, no, noooooooooo!
Me: I think we need to go and change your nappy. Felix help Mummy?
Felix: (Picks up phone and opens it) Busy
Me: Well, you can take your phone with you and use it while you change your nappy, if you like
Felix: (Sing-song voice) Busyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!
***
When we went to the park later on, Felix was rapidly adopted by two girls of about eight and ten. They instantly fell for his cherubic appearance and wanted desperately to lead him around like a little pet. They hadn’t reckoned on the obdurate nature of Fascist Boy.
Eventually, he condescended to accompany them over to the swings and the girls sat on the two ‘big’ swings while he sat happily next to them on the ‘baby’ swings. They continually referred to him as ‘the baby’ and I could see his displeasure increasing until he finally exclaimed, with as much dignity as he could muster, ‘No, no. I NOT a bady!’. To which I could only add, ‘That told you’.
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