Tuesday, August 23, 2011
'Peas are my anenomy' says middle child as I hand him his dinner.
'Your what? Are you sure you have the right word there?'
'Yes' he responds as if I am terminally stupid before going on very slowly so that his dumbass mother can understand - 'They are my anenomy because I don't like them'.
The seven year old starts giggling and then says in her most superior voice (which believe me is pretty God damn superior) 'They are not your anenomy Marley - they're your em-en-y'.
She suddenly realises that this isn't quite right so shoots me a quick look and then shuts up.
'It's enemy darling' I say. 'Peas. Are. Your. Enemy' (I wonder to myself what social services would say if they were to walk in at this moment. In fact - I wonder what any one would say if they were to walk in at this moment.)
'Anenony...emeny...enemy...anyway - I'm going to watch the moon-set and they're not coming'.
I don't think that's really a sentence you want to argue with.