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?