My self-esteem runneth over.

The great thing about parenting is that (like all things that are hard work and ultimately thankless) it builds character by the bucket-load. 

Specifically, I think it's pretty much impossible to have an inflated head when you have a five-year-old. 

Today, Flea and I were driving home from the local water park and I was singing along to the CD.

"Mummy? Do you want to do nice singing?" asked my companion.

"I am doing," I replied.

"No, do the singing with the right notes," Flea insisted.


Still, at least that wasn't as cutting as our bedtime conversation last night. Flea's been reading a book about an island where the local wildlife is a bit scary.

"Mummy, are there bears in England?"

"No, not really. Not in the wild"

Flea looked a bit worried. "If there were bears and they escaped, would they eat us?"

"No," I reassured her. "We'd run away, wouldn't we?" 

Flea thought for a moment. 

"Actually, the the bear wouldn't eat me," she declared. 


"No. It would probably just eat you because you're fatter." 

Well, you have to admire the pragmatism. 

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