So it's Sunday night and it's bath time for *bonzo, aka flossy.
Himself is in the middle of trying to extract flossy from the stupidest dress known to man, silly little summer thing with iddy biddy straps which cross over at the back. She gets caught in this dress like a fish in a net every bloody time she wears it...anyway.
Flossy's busying complaining VERY LOUDLY that her hands are stuck and Himself is still faffing about trying to get the dress off when (for a laugh apparently) he asks if all three of her hands are stuck.
All quiet in the bathroom while Flossy looks at her Dad like he just floated up the Lagan in a bubble.
She manages to wriggle out of the dress and climbs into the bath while the conversation about hands somehow continues.
Flossy: I got my hands back, see (waves hands frantically in front of face).
Himself: Yep, all three hands back again.
Flossy: No Daddy, you're a silly moomoo, see (again with the frantic waving).
Aaaah, Daddy suckins you ganch. Outsmarted by a three year old. You'll not catch her out that easily, she was after all raised by yours truly. All the while victory lap in my head, running with arms outstretched in the air cause my kids rocks..... wait hang on a mo', is she still talking. Right back up a bit.
Flossy: No Daddy, you're a silly moomoo, see....I have four hands. (Yep four, arms no longer above head)
And then she counts them, and somehow, manages to count to four with only two hands.
Right, yes, as I was saying, she is only three and I'm still working on numbers with her.
Of course, there is always the possibility that she was just trying to wind up daddy, the same way he tried with her. Eh, I live in hope.
* I've never actually referred to her as bonzo, but it fit better than flossy, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.