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We’re big Dora the Explorer fans in this house, finding as many excuses as possible to shout out ‘SWIPER NO SWIPING’ as often as possible. So rewind to last Monday night, we’re sitting at the table having our tea when H pipes up in exactly the same voice as she would for Swiper

“MUMMY! NO FARTING!”

“I beg your pardon…” I say, kind of spluttering and try not to laugh out loud too much at her.

“MUMMY. NO FARTING” she repeats

I do the sensible thing any parent would at this point and ask “do you know what farting means?” to which H replies “yes mummy, it’s when people fight”

I explain to her that no, farting is in fact what grown up’s call a gassy bubble, and she looks at me with a smile as if to say “mummy, you think I’m stupid? You can’t trick me saying things like that! I’m WAY too wise” and pretty much dismisses what I’ve said. I’m not entirely sure how her no longer believing what I tell her happened, but hey.

Fast forward a few more days and we’re browsing my iPod Touch. There’s the picture of Robbie Williams and his baby, and H asks “Mummy, is that daddy?” to which I confirm that no, it definitely isn’t daddy. “Is it you then mummy?” she replies. Wail.

Lippy H