Icksnay on the ipskay

If there is one word you must NEVER say around the LGBB, it is ....

Skips.

Skips are biscuits. Apparently (just ask her). I want her to get the word wrong for as long as possible, it's that adorable.

It is the most uttered word on a daily basis. So much so that a "skip ban" has been placed on her until the afternoons - mind you, "skips" are actually vegetable chips (the poor poppet, I am so nasty, she's never even been introduced to a milk arrowroot yet). Still, she woofs her artsy-fartsy pansy skips like they're triple-decker chocomochafudge-a-licious gold.

There was a moment a couple of weeks back where she knew she'd pushed it too far. I laid down the letter of the Skip Law. Since then, instead of directly asking, imploring, pleading and then begging (my leg), she has decided to take the bigger-person approach; she'll sit back, look around then casually enquire with hands in the shrug position, "Skips? Where skips gone?" Pause for an answer and for effect and then you hear, "I don' know where skips' gone." See? She's not asking or nagging for it is beneath her (yeah, right). She's simply calling her skips. "Oh, skiiiips? Where you gorn?" She's good. Going to definitely have to get up earlier and earlier as she gets older, just to collect my wits about me.

And when you look at her quizzically, after you can no longer avoid that steel-blue - rather, The Blue Steel?, as mastered by her dad inadvertently and evidenced in any existing photo of him to date - glare, you can be assured that she will square you up and repeat again.

"Skips."

If you then try and tilt your head on the side with a puzzled expression, she'll press on. Perhaps you're not understanding her. She'll say it slowww-er. And more clearly so you can fulfil her request.

"Bisskips."

Oh! Bisskips. How silly of me. I thought you said skips.