Last night, after we unpacked a parcel from Belgium and I allowed Ella to eat two different types of bikkies and let her use her new scissors to cut up some left-over wrapping paper, Ella declared:
“You are the great mummy!”
Yep, that’s me: Mummy the Great. Though I immediately realised that it is hard to believe the authority of someone who a little earlier in the car on the way home forced me to get involved in this conversation:
Ella – But what are we going to do with all that cheese??
Me (unaware that the topic of cheese had been mentioned at any point during that day) – What cheese?
Ella – All that cheese! What are we going to do with it?
Me – What cheese?
Ella – I don’t know. But what are we going to do?
Me – Where is the cheese?
Ella – In our loungeroom at our home.
Me – (Finally giving up on trying to stick to the facts, being 99.99% sure that we do not have a large amount of cheese sitting in our loungeroom) – I don’t know. What do you think we should do with all that cheese?
Ella – We should eat it all. Because I have nothing else, so you have to eat it all!
Me – Ok then.
Then she sang her rendition of the ‘Incy wincy spider’ song, made up a song about cauliflower and had a conversation with her monkey about catching crocodiles (“Because crocodiles are dangerous, that’s why we have to catch them”).
So Mummy the Great thinks it is probably wise to take anything Ella the Great says with a tiny grain of salt.
(I keep thinking of Dylan Moran’s “What are children? They’re just drunk midgets!” quote.)