The mouths of babes

 (With apologies for repetition to anyone who's read my or my husband's Facebook status updates recently.)


 Mabel was looking for a library book.
- Tits, tits! she exclaimed.
- Um, I prevaricated.
- Tits. I want tits. You go into dem tits!
 Then I realised she was looking for the book called You'll grow into them, Titch.

 ----------------------------

The kids got one of those swirly hooded chairs from Ikea for Christmas from a generous aunt. They have amused themselves ever since by pushing each other around, demanding to be pushed round by us, pushing themselves around with hands or feet, or closing themselves both in and doing I don't know what.

This last was going on the day after Christmas, with - apparently - something they were using as a pretend screwdriver, when I heard the conversation go something like this:

- Stop screwing [it?] around!
- I'm not screwing.
- You have to stop screwing now.
- Now I'm screwing! Screw, screw, screw...

 ----------------------------
 
Lately, Dash's fourth-birthday presents of Zingo and Junior Yahtzee have been experiencing a resurgence. Mabel is perfectly well able to play Zingo, though she gets bored with Yahtzee and wanders away after a few throws of the dice. A few days ago Dash and his dad were playing Yahtzee. They got to the end, when you have to add up the scores to find out who won.

Dash: Now for some math!
Mabel: No it's no-ot!
Dash: You don't even know what math is.
Mabel: Yes I do. Granny goes to math.