We live five minutes drive from lots of country lanes. Some of these country lanes have bumps, the sort that make your stomach lurch as you dip down. We call these 'wheeeeeeeees', which is the noise we scream as we fly over the them.
We have a particular favourite on the back road to Ilkley. The faster you go the better the 'wheeeeeeeee'.
The 4 year old informed me today that she knows how to tell a bad 'wheeeeeeeee' from a good 'wheeeeeeeee'.
4 year old - "A good wheeeeeeeee makes me do a little wee".
Wee Part Two
We spent most of Easter weekend with my sister, her family and some of her friends who had come down for the week from Scotland.
The friends from Scotland have a daughter who is four and got on famously with my 4 year old. After their first day together they declared themselves BFF.
The Scottish four year old is … well … Scottish and instead of using the word 'small' uses the word 'wee'. As my Dad, my aunt, uncle, cousins and my grandparents are Scottish it is something I give no thought to.
The 4 year old however has given it as much thought as possible.
4 year old - "Why does [the Scottish four year old] say 'a wee dog/a wee burp/a wee play/a wee boy"?
Me - "Scottish people use the word 'wee' for 'small'.
4 year old - "But if a Scottish person does a small wee, is it a wee wee"
Me - "I suppose so, yes"
4 year old - "… and if a Scottish person does a small poo is it a wee poo?" looks at me and sniggers
Me - sighing "I suppose so, yes"
This conversation I'm sure would have gone on ... and on ... and on had she not been in the car clutching an ice cream tub full of tadpoles which had been collected from Auntie K's pond ... to which she kept whispering "I love you".