Only one so far, and at 6 months old has so far only redecorated the kitchen with mouth-processed banana, but your story manages to make me simultaneously look forward to the coming years yet also escape while I still can!

Your morning sounds like some unbelievable sitcom scenario. All you needed was the mother-in-law walking in a brand new white dress she was going to wear to impress the local vicar, and receiving a spray of potty-contents. Thanks for enduring this to cheer me up.

(Great tune by the way - love the idea of the three of you wigging out to it in the car)

Come on, fess up. Were you not tempted, even if only a little bit, to switch the dishwasher back on dialled to the "pots and pans" setting?

My little anecdote is from my daughter who at the time was three or four. She said "mummy is booking a disappointment at the hairdressers"; I felt proud about how perceptive my daughter is because as long as I have known her, since the early 1980's, my wife has only been pleased with one haircut.

at least marginalised into something manageable and conquerable. I was back."

Have a moist-eyed Up arrow on me.

You could've had gordon brown's week :)

glad the clouds parted

This post managed to make me feel queasy and uplifted at the same time. Have an up arrow (I think).

What a fantastic gift of the written word you have sir, you are to be congratulated!

I also have two; at four and eighteen months. Not a day passes were it doesn't turn into some kind of facade which nobody else, except those with kids, would or could even imagine or contemplate. Only the other day I had to lean out of the running shower to help 'wipe' child number one, she then proceded to flush, then wash her hands (as previously taught) only to send the shower to near freezing temparatures.....
But I to grit my teeth and lovingly smile and say well done. I drew the line at a conversation she wanted to have about 'doodles' and hurried her out the door.
It was a mistake to name it that I know, as she's absolutely convinced that she knows what mr maker keeps in his doodle drawers...

A rare thing indeed. Have an "uppie".

Mr. Bisto.

...who didn't laugh with recognition while reading that, while at the same time feeling one of those inexpressible and terrifying rushes of love for his own little ones. I know I did. It made me not want to be at work, which is odd, given all the poo.

Cracking writing, A_B.

Thy dost need to quaff ale with The Massive tonight in Mancunia.

lying in a heap at the bottom of the staircase at 3am having slipped on the way down to investigate the sounds of vomiting coming from our one year old's room. My wife simpy stepped over me to go and clear up the spew.

My top parenting moment: when my eldest was 2 and just speaking properly, having her shout "I want cheesy puffs" down the aisle in Sainsbury's. Which attracted less attention than my subsequent loud cheer at having successfully managed to turn my child into Eric Cartman in such a short space of time.

that I'm not alone. This morning, after the chief of the domestic staff and senior daughter had departed for school I thought I would sort out the bags the junior two take to Nursery. Now, I do vaguely recall that super-son came home in different lower garments than he went out in yesterday morning. I also feel fairly confident that the kindly nursery assistant made reference to some kind of accident having occurred during the day. As I wrestled with the evidence bag in a vain attempt to remove items contained therein I was slightly concerned to discover that not only had the boy's pants been sent home but also everything he had produced. Believe me it's really annoying, having had my morning shower, to watch my middle finger sink to the second knuckle in day-old turd.

Many years ago whilst watching the wonderful "Poseidon adventure" with my young son, we watched in awe as Shelly Winters character died in such heroic fashion. Shelly's bespectacled husband came out of the water obviously distraught. My son's immediate comment was... "Good job he didn't lose his glasses"

Went up to the Mother in Law and asked, "Are you going to die soon?"
That's my boy.

I'm watching my step son play his 4th game of the day, along with a few other dads, some of whom have seen a little more of the beer tent than is good for them.

One of our forwards collapses with a shriek and his dad and I set off across the pich - no idea why really, it just seemed the right thing to do. We arrive panting alongside the injured lad, who is being tended to by our coach, who luckily does know something about first aid.

"Wassamarra, wassamarra" asks Dad. His son, face red and contorted with pain yells "Crap, crap". "Oh my god" yelps Dad "he's shat himself!! Now what do I do??". I'm dumbstruck. I turn to our coach in the hope that his first aid training covered this seeminglu unlikely eventuality, and reflecting that the greasy burgers and cider that were being wolfed down by the team between each game were clearly not a good idea.

I wasn't expecting the Coach's solution to be to yank the kids leg in the air, but he seemed sure of himself, so I moved round ready to grasp his other leg if needed. Dad meanwhile starts asking the rest of our team if they have spare kit.

Coach looks over his shoulder at Dad and back at me and says "Give me f*cking strength ... he's got cramp .....get it? CRAMP"

Sorry, can't continue, it's time for the medication ... and I don't want to miss the medication ...

Excellent, excellent stories from you all. I think this might be my favourite thread; I had tears in my eyes from laughing so hard, and don't think I've 'upped' so many posts in one thread.

Can't add any parenting stories myself, the furthest I've ever got to being a father so far is being the designated playmate of my three-year old niece when I ever go and see her- she seems to forget I might want to talk to her mummy and daddy too.

My daughter refuses to hug me most days, she thinks this is a big joke but it breaks my heart. The other day she told my other half to stop shouting at her brother or "daddy would get us another mummy". Outnumbered has nothing on my two.

Carry on the good work!

relatively new to reading.

"...Daddy, tonight, I'll read you 'Maisy's big fuck book'"

(Me, calmly)"...I think it says FLAP book ..F..L..A..P"

"Yes, but tonight, if I don't know a word, I'm going to say 'fuck'"

(Me) "...."

Last summer we were having some decorating work done, my daughter was watching a film, curtains closed, full cinema experience with popcorn. After about half an hour my daughter marched out of the living room, past the decorator and out in the garden to find mum, the following was said, top of voice. "Mummy, can I have some more cockporn"! Later that day, when another tradesman was doing some plumbing, our decorator (who we know quite well) was regaling his mate with my daughters ealier antics when she once again walked past, empty bowl in hand requiring a top up. "What is that you have there?" he enquired, expecting a repeat performance, only for her to reply, with a face of utter scorn, "popcorn".

Wonderful thread! Here's my contribution...

I was enjoy a rare and delightful lie-in, when my (then) 2 year old daughter toddled in to say good morning (having graduated from a cot to a proper bed the previous week).

Now, I often sleep with my arm hanging out the bed, so Grace waddled up and started stroking my arm.

"How nice" I thought, dozily.
And then, "Why does my arm feel so sticky?"

Suddenly I was wide awake.

Turns out darling daughter had produced a poop of gargantuan proportions, then stuck her hands down the back of her nappy for a good ol' scratch. And then come in to say good morning.

So I was awoken by my daughter lovingly wiping mushy poo down my arm.

When I turned on the light (and stopped shrieking), I was even more pleased to discover a trail of joyful poo-ey handprints along the walls from Grace's room to ours.

No-one can prepare you fully for the joys of parenthood!

my little boy wanted to know what "A pearly is" as in "we've got to get a pearly in the morning"

to say thanks to you all for your kind and complimentary words and for picking up the spirit of my post and contributing with your own funny, poignant and warm anecdotes. As much as writing my observations your comments have helped considerably in redressing karmic balance. A problem shared as they say.

Parenting is an amazing experience, tapping into emotions and muscles I never knew existed. It really is the undiscovered country of the internal monologue, a simultaneously unique but common experience for millions of folk every single day. My concepts of time, love and self are turned over and over constantly with no sign of that unfurling process ever abating. I've learned to let so many things just fall by the wayside when in the past I'd have made an issue of them, such is the way kids monopolise your mind and body. The net effect of their monopoly contrasts every day sometimes adrenalising me into bouts of frenetic energy and activity, other times draining me to an empty husk of jelloed skin and bone.

As I write I have just been invited on a picnic outside with the 2 year old and her dollies Baby Annabel and Stella. Apparently we're having bacon sandwiches, sausages, strawberries and a "mystery ingredient". I saw her digging up worms earlier so I have my suspicions.