Last week the Small Child went to stay in Caloundra with his GrandpaDug who is visiting from Canada at the moment. Being one of those grandparents who rarely gets to see his grandchildren due to geographical disparity … GrandpaDug finds hanging out with the Small Child to be amusing (lack of familiarity breeds unusual patience in cases such as these) and unsurprisingly has a tendency to indulge the rug rat and happily participates in child friendly activities the likes of which full time parents often find tedious. This apparently saw GrandpaDug and the Small Child spending quite a bit of time hanging out at the hotel pool where I am led to believe the following conversation took place –
Anonymous Small Boy at Hotel Pool: I can see that lady’s boobs.
(My) Small Child: Those aren’t boobs… they’re tits!
GrandpaDug: That’s my boy!
Sigh… Obviously this is a result of the Mr K, the Small Child’s father, having a detrimental effect on the Small Child’s vocabulary and there’s scant little I can do about it. I will however take solace in the fact that by the time I am finished with the same Small Child he’ll at least be able to correctly identify that “they’re tits” is the proper form, rather than “there tits” or “their tits” when writing a sentiment of this nature…. unlike his father.
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