Words...

I imagine it’s fairly common for toddlers to have favourite words. Harry’s favourite changes every couple of weeks – often provoking a fair amount of amusement in the process.

A couple of weeks ago it was beer. I thought this was hilarious, even if it was a little bit uncomfortable when he told strangers he was having beer for tea (it wasn’t true, obviously).

My mum and nan, however, were less than impressed when Harry started shouting beer during a trip to the supermarket, so it was quite a relief when he decided that his new favourite word was ‘naughty’.

At the moment, everyone is naughty. On Saturday morning, Harry woke Melissa up telling her she was naughty for leaving her coat hanging on the back of a chair. ‘Away,’ he said, pointing earnestly to the wardrobe. I keep getting told off for leaving drawers open or for not shutting doors.

Harry certainly knows what he’s doing – and he knows when he says something funny or cheeky; you can tell by the wicked smile afterwards.

He’s also not averse to a bit of emotional blackmail to get his own way. I took him to the supermarket last weekend and, after being pretty well behaved and sitting in his trolley for the best part of an hour, he suddenly decided he wanted to get out. I tried bribing him with chocolate buttons, but by the time we got to the checkout, he was practically standing on the seat trying to climb out.

It turned into a battle of wills – and I was determined to keep him in the trolley. However, my resistance crumbled when he held his arms in the air and said: ‘Daddy, cuddle. Please.’ What could I do? The cheeky grin told the world he’d beaten me. Little rascal.