The children and I were chatting in the car today about names for pets, and names for children.
Tilly has decided that, on the children front, whether she has a boy or a girl, its middle name will be Tiberius.
Not after the Roman emperor.
After James Tiberius Kirk of the Starship Enterprise.
Jason totally approves of this.
I am resigned.
I hope she has a therapy jar for her children as I do for mine. I hope she doesn’t raid her children’s therapy jars to buy emergency biscuits and pay the window cleaner, as I do mine.
Tilly also said she wanted a pygmy unicorn.
Tallulah used this opportunity to insist that we refer to it as the unihorn. She has always refused to use the word unicorn, saying, quite rightly, that it is a horn not a corn. She has a special unihorn voice. It’s sort of strung out and echoey: ‘uniiihooorn.’
Tilly said she didn’t care if it was a horn or a corn – but it should be bad tempered.
I came up with the name ‘Bitey.’
Which was universally rejoiced in.
Bitey, the bad tempered unicorn apparently swears a lot. This is Oscar’s offering. He is fascinated by swearing and takes every opportunity he can to say swear words gleefully and unrepentantly.
He shouted out: ‘Bitey can say shit!’
I said: ‘Oscar!’ in that outraged mama tone that works so well, except as then, when I was trying not to laugh, especially as Tallulah took the opportunity to shout at Oscar across the car.
‘Yes! You can shit off!’
Which reminded me so much of something Alan Partridge would say I totally dissolved and yet again ruined a chance to stop my children turning into adolescent horrors.