Aaron’s language skills are coming on slowly. He still has a major problem with Ls and Rs, and mixes Portuguese with English, so a lot of the time he sounds like a juvenile version of Elmer Fudd on speed. However, today on the way to school we had to stop a little quickly for someone in front who decided they weren’t going to chance an amber light, and out came a perfectly enunciated
“F**king Hell. Wot a plonka!”
I don’t know where he gets it from, really I don’t. It reminds me of the time my friends Colin and Lynne Sawford brought their toddler James to visit when my Mum was staying with us. I can’t remember what it was exactly he was doing, but it was clearly impressive to my Mum, who encouraged him to do it again. He steadfastly refused, in spite of Mum’s goading, and finally came out with “I don’t f**king want to.” Everyone but Mum, who was a bit hard of hearing, sort of sat there cringeing and coughing politely, while Mum asked in all innocence “What was that dear..?” Fortunately Lynne stepped in quickly with some diversionary tactic and the rest of the visit went off perfectly. James must now be pushing thirty, and if he ever reads this, I hope he’ll be suitably ashamed (only joking James).