I LOVE the things children say. Those silly comments they make that, to them, seem logical and, to us, can often be confusing or embarrassing.
The other day I was in a book shop in Huddersfield. A little girl was standing with her grandma with a book in each hand.
“Which one do you want?” asked grandma.
“Which is the thickest?” answered the very smart little girl.
My five-year-old grandson Ruairi was sitting down to Sunday lunch, but refused gravy on his food.
“Why don’t you want gravy?” his mum asked.
“I’m scared of gravy,” he said.
Which is one way of being awkward but if he’s scared of gravy, what’s he going to make of custard? Or rice pudding? And, God forbid, he ever encounters semolina.
Everybody has a favourite about what their offspring has said and here are a couple of mine.
A father was reading Bible stories to his young son. He read: “The man named Lot was warned to take his wife and flee out of the city, but his wife looked back and was turned to salt.”
His son asked: “What happened to the flea?”
A little girl asked her mother: “Can I go outside and play with the boys?” Her mother replied: “No, you can’t play with the boys, they’re too rough.”
The little girl thought about it for a few moments and said: “If I can find a smooth one, can I play with him?”
And then there was the seven-year-old who told her parents that Billy Brown had kissed her after school.
“How did that happen?” gasped her mother. “It wasn’t easy,” said the young lady, “but three girls helped me catch him.”
