Big Yellow Boobs
I'm really not very good at this being a father thing.
I decided that a long time ago. I bumble along as best I can. I conform to so few Mummy Norms though. I seem to say and do the wrong thing with monotonous regularity.
I managed to upset the Hummus Mums. I manage to put my foot in it in the school playground. And I manage to say the wrong thing more often than even an exhibitionist such as I would care to admit at our daughter's play school.
Generally these faux pas are treated with at worst benign disinterest. More often some humour. And occasionally hilarity.
My ability to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. To misinterpret what is being said to me. To misunderstand the reaction I am expected to give. All of this knows no bounds.
I have never been very good at the instantaneous admiration of toddler art. I know a number of parents who have perfected the "that's lovely, now tell me what I can see," response to an art.
My instinct on the other hand is to do as Roy Walker always instructed on Catchphrase, 'Say What You See.'
Therefore my response to having this picture thrust in front of me by one of the helpers at my daughter's play school was to be completely honest.
As usual our daughter ran up to me for a welcome hug as I arrived. Holding her I turned to find the helper presenting me with the nice pink tortoise. "Look at the lovely artwork *3* did this morning," she said.
"Lovely!" I exclaimed, to the beaming little girl in my arms.
"And look at the wonderful things she put on the tortoise!" Enthused the play school lady.
"Wow!" I mugged at our daughter. "Big Yellow boobs!"
The play school lady was unimpressed with my mistaking the artwork to be the tortoise equivalent of Katy Price.
"No!" She barked. "The FACE!"
"Oh, yes," I said shame-facedly. "Of course, wonderful face."
Our daughter just shook her head. "Silly Daddy!" She beamed.