I've known for some time that Harry does not understand tact. This was made perfectly clear to me when I asked him why he didn't like lying next to me in bed.
“It's because you're too hairy, daddy,” he told me. “It's not very nice.”
Fortunately, these rather blunt declarations have been limited to Melissa and myself so far – but all that changed last weekend when a friend of mine visited.
Harry hadn't met this friend – who will remain nameless – before and was, to start with at least, fairly cautious. However, he soon found his feet.
Unfortunately, this friend of mine had been out for a few drinks the previous evening and had, I would guess, decided upon a kebab on the way the home.
Harry obviously picked up on this too. While we were standing in the kitchen, Harry asked me what the funny smell was. Trying to be polite, I replied that it was probably the sausages I'd cooked earlier.
“No it's not,” came the reply. “It smells poo-ey.” I swiftly changed the subject.
Some time later, Harry was sat next to this friend in the back of my car while we went to an indoor play area.
“You smell funny,” Harry announced. My friend either didn't hear or pretended not to hear.
By this point, I was struggling somewhere between acute embarrassment and desperately trying not to burst out laughing.
To be honest, it was almost a relief when my friend left. I asked Harry if he'd had fun. “Yes I did,” came the answer, “but your friend is a bit smelly.”
At least I know who to go to if I ever want an honest opinion.
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