Daddy Cool: 'I'm begining to sound like supertramp'

KANGAROOS were the teaching topic at nursery for my four-and-a-half year-old Sylvie recently.

My wife Sara thought she would provide a head start on the subject. "Do you know that kangaroos are called marsupials?" my dearest offered. "No they're not, mummy," came a reply suffused with indignation. "They are called kangaroos."

What you would have to call unimpeachable logic. It is not a common trait in the pronouncements of pre-schoolers. But their musings are a great source of merriment, regardless of whether they are more Harry Hill than Kant. Indeed, one particularly diverting parental parlour game is attempting to divine meaning from any illogical and idiosyncratic flights of fancy before these are ironed out of them (yikes, I'm beginning to sound like that old Supertramp number).

Sylvie bemused me the other week by insisting she could kiss herself. When I responded with a disbelieving and dismissive "how?" she pressed a flat hand against her face and laid a big smacker on it. Strictly speaking, that amounted to making good on her claim, though the wean in me was a bit miffed at being duped. We won't go into the psychology of that.

Those involved in health promotion may be delighted to know their message would appear to be getting through where my daughter is concerned. Awaking after falling asleep in the car during the holidays, I asked her what she had been dreaming about. "The hopital," she said. When, a little concerned, I gently enquired as to who was in it, she replied: "The damned." Why were they damned? I naturally followed up. "Because they were fat," came the unsympathetic response.

Sylvie has taken to requiring an hour and 15 minutes to scoop her way through half a bowl of soup, or any other small meal for that matter. Including breakfast hoops. To combat a potential problem, we have taken to giving her a set time for meals. This requires an alarm clock to be placed in front of her at the table.

For the time allotted, she will play with said clock, and generally mess about. Then the alarm will go off and she will go like the clappers to wolf down the contents of her plate or bowl. I well understand the logic of pushing right against a deadline. Indeed, if you ask me, it is one of the great life skills. n

• This article was first published in the Scotland on Sunday on January 16, 2011