Busy day, Jason slaved away clearing up the remains of the lilac tree and painting the playhouse a very fetching blue and cream combo. I took Rose out the way to a church fair where my children’s author group had a stall. I totally failed to sell any books. Rose had a great time, she went on the bouncy castle with all the big kids and ate an icecream the size of her head.
Then it happened. Jason was just finishing off the paintjob on the playhouse and Rose helpfully carried the paint over to the house. She of course dropped it and it went splat everywhere. In the general confusion and despair that followed, Jason tried to put the lid on the paint a bit too forcefully and it sprayed paint literally EVERYWHERE. There might be somewhere in Australia that doesn’t have paint on it but I’d be surprised. Anyhow at that exact point he said the f word and Rose didn’t stop using it all evening. On the plus side, she is saying it in context, so we can at least feel proud that her acquisition of language is going great guns and we have nothing to fear about her verbal skills. Now, how am I going to teach her to say ‘bucket’ instead of ‘fuck it’ before we go to lunch at my parents tomorrow?