Which either
means she has the sophisticated understanding of an adult, and the subtleties
of light conversation.
Or I have the
sense of humour of a 19 month old.
I strongly suspect
the latter.
This has been
further reaffirmed with Ben telling friends that You’ve Been Framed is my favourite
programme.
It is.
But doesn’t
reflect all that well on me that I’d watch home videos of grannies slipping
over at weddings over a David Attenborough.
At the
weekend my mum went paragliding. The most exciting thing I have done all year
is puke my face off on a ferry, and my mum has been
paragliding. She's pretty incredible, my mum.
Nancy and I
went along as her support team.
Turns out
that she had to take off from the top of a hill which wasn’t buggy friendly,
so we waiting in the field/ car park for her.
Also the wind
carried her to the other side of the hill so we didn’t see all that much in
terms of extreme sports.
It wasn’t all
uneventful though.
A plumber’s
van pulled up in front of our car. The man got out, turned in our direction,
and did a wee, giving me and Nancy a full frontal, clearly oblivious to the mum
and toddler hanging out in the Punto reading Meg and Mog for the hundredth
time.
That is until
Nancy banged on the window.
It might have
just been chance. Or accident.But the plumber nearly caught his bits in his zip as he rushed to put himself away. Which was pretty hilarious. And entirely instigated by Nancy, who grinned like she knew she’d pulled a funny.
And then, as Nancy
looked at pictures of my mum soaring through the air strapped to a paragliding
instructor, Nancy said, ‘it’s Nanny bird.’
Nanny bird.
What a perfect description.
But the best one
of late was when she pointed at Ben’s face and said, ‘bum!’ To which she and I
both properly belly laughed.
I have a job
with responsibility. A mortgage.
And I share a
sense of humour with someone who can’t yet say her own name.
I should
video all these and send them off to YBF (as it’s known to us die hard fans),
then I could combine my favourite viewing with a bonus two hundred and fifty
quid.
Then who’d be
laughing?
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