Playdate Mate


Kids say some funny things but I think you sort of get used to your own kids funny.

I had the opportunity to be exposed to some fresh kid funny the other day when we had a school friend over for a play date.

I was a bit apprehensive. 4 small people under 10, roads to cross, driving in traffic and only 3 x-box remote controls.

However within 5 minutes of taking possession of our new friend and his quirky and matter of fact views on life and the world he had won me over to believing that everything was going to be alright.

“My mum is worst driver in the world” I overheard him telling the other small people in our posse. “She is always crashing her car.”

Moments later all strapped into the car he announced that his mother used to have a credit card but the credit card company had taken it away because she never paid her bill.

I asked if perhaps his mother might prefer if he kept these revelations to himself.

“Nah” he said “She doesn’t mind.”

Next one of my regular charges was running randomly through the alphabet suggesting words, part bragging and partly in an attempt to garner a reaction. “The b-word” he announced suggestively, to see if he had any takers.


“The k-word.” Still nothing.

“The c-word.”

“You mean the worst word in the world?” asks our newest source of all knowledge.

“YES!” exclaimed alphabet boy.

And then just in case you think we are raising a bunch of foul mouthed barbarians he added “What is it?”

“I’m not going to say it.” Our wise friend assured us all. “My mum said it the other day when she was talking to her friend about [insert the name of an unpopular politician here].”

“Your mum is the coolest.” the wanna be bad-word-say-er rejoined.

Next the conversation turned to mono brows, as it invariably does when you are driving 4 young boys home from school. Our play date mate had something worthwhile to share on this topic too. Someone that he knew had to have their mono brow WAXED (imagine this word enunciated in the most incredulous fashion) in order to end up with 2 brows.

Disbelief all round.

“I hate traffic.” he interjected as we stopped for the third time at the same light. “It takes up so much time.”

Next they were all trying to touch their tongues to their noses. He announced that his sister, who is only 4 can do it, as if it is merely age that would facilitate this feat.

Earlier in the car journey our young friend had mentioned that his sister was 3, we had driven past the childcare she attends, which had elicited the information.

“The traffic must be really bad” I chimed in, not wanting to be out funnied by an 8 year old “When we started this trip your sister was only 3.”

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