My 7 year old Grandson asked me to play dinosaurs with him last week.
He wanted us to pick a team of dinosaurs each, then have a big battle to see which dinosaur team won.
Every time I picked one with massive claws or teeth, he'd say "Sorry Grandad, he's got to be on my team because I was just going to pick him".
After team selection was over, my little mob of fat four legged grass guzzlers were looking somewhat overmatched by their carnivorous counterparts. For those of you old enough, it looked like the fucking footy match out of Bedknobs and Broomsticks.
"Are you ready then Grandad?" he says.
Never being someone to give kids of any age an easy time of it in a competitive situation, I replied: "Err, no, actually - this is very unfair, and you have all the carnivores so I'm bound to lose. Can't I just have one of the big ones to make things a bit fairer - that one over there will do".
With a completely straight face, the cheeky little [and, I remind you, 7 year old] fucker says "Actually Grandad, the T-Rex was a flexitarian, not a carnivore."
Had no idea what to say to that, and 30 seconds later I was surrounded by the mutilated corpses of my former team.
The joys of Grandparenthood...
