Oh god, I’ve reached a new parenting milestone. The “you-can’t-pick-your-nose-in-front-of-your-child-because-they-will-start-picking-their-nose-and-tell-your-wife-that-it-was-you-who-showed-them-how-to-do-it-and-then-they-of-course-spend-every-waking-hour-trying-to-shove-their-entire-fist-all-the-way-through-to-their-brain-while-giggling-and-saying-daddy-daddy” phase. In fact I’ve realised that so much of my day-to-day management of my daughter is ensuring that her mother does not find out about my parental incompetence. Today Tori at a piece of a toy that will no doubt take 6 weeks to and when I didn’t freak out (but Peggy did) I nearly let it slip that “oh don’t worry, she’s eaten much worse / bigger / moldier / rustier / sharper things than that”. Thankfully the little man in my head who is usually sound asleep dreaming about vacations in Mexico woke up in the nick of time to matrix-slow-mo-leap-through-the-air and yank on the “emergency dont-you-dare-say-that-you-idiot brake” which resulted in me peeing a little and belching so violently that it muffled and disguised my damning admission in a manner that was perceived by my wife as yet another example of my typical juvenile and incompetent interpersonal communication skills. Thanks yet again to the little-man-in-my-head for allowing me to be seen as interpersonally inept rather than idiotically negligent! Brilliant!