This is a joke book – a collection of real conversations I’ve had with my offspring, or that they’ve had with me, mostly against my will. I started keeping records for my own entertainment when they began to talk properly.
Two-year-old: What’s that?
Me: My nipple.
Two-year-old: Is it dead?
I regretted teaching them to speak once pre-adolescence and Covid lockdowns arrived – life phases with equivalent survival strategies and effects.
Nine-year-old: Good news! While you were in your meeting, I finished your puzzle!
Me: …
Nine-year-old: I could see it was too hard for you.
Thirteen-year-old: I don’t like boys.
Me: Okay.
Thirteen-year-old: I like cats.
Me: Okay!
Thirteen-year-old: So … not your daughter, then.
I hope it never ends. Life is a set-up, and parenting is the punchline. As my mother once said, ‘I hope one day you have children. And then we’ll see who’s laughing.’
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