Put Your Cock Away Now Please

‘Look mum,’ my four [almost five] year old told me. ‘It looks like a peacot.’

‘A what?, I asked distractedly.

‘She means a peacock,’ the seven year said pointedly.

‘Yes. A peacot,’ Curly Mop said pointing at the fan she had splayed out in front of her and was now swivelling in her hand. Yes, it did look like a peacock, I had to admit, but what the hell was with her pronunciation, I thought.

‘Peacock,’ I said clearly.

‘Peacot,’ she replied.

‘Peacock,’ I said louder, because everyone knows that will work.

‘Peacot,’ she replied.

‘K’ I said, getting my crankypants on. ‘Say k’.

‘K’, she responded.

‘Peacock.’

‘Peacot.’

Grrrrrr.

‘Say sock,’ I beg.

‘Sock.’

‘Dock.’

‘Dock.’

‘Good,’ I respond. ‘Say lock.’

‘Lock,’ she replies.

‘Cock.’

‘Cot.’

 ‘Cock, say cock! It’s cock,’ I practically shout in her face, not thinking all about what I am yelling at the top of my lungs.

‘Cot,’ she yells back.

Grrrr

‘It’s cock. Why can’t you say cock? It’s just COCK.’

Then that part of my brain – which should have been functioning long before now – wakes up and tells me to stop shouting obscene words in my daughter’s face.

‘Don’t you think it looks like a Peacot Mummy?’

‘Yes. Yes I do. Now put it away please.’