An interview with my children

Your blogs have been on fire this week!

So much inspiration to tap into.

I've already copied Adrenalyn's post about confessions which threw up some interesting comments (and by interesting I mean, bwahahaha you're all worse than me).

And by 'copied' I mean I recognised a fabulous idea and ran with it. Ahem.

Now I'm going to pay homage to Laura, who interviewed her 5 year old and I thought it was just brilliant.

So tonight I interviewed both of my children: Dan, 7 and Mia, 4.

How old do you have to be to drive a car?

Mia: 17. I don't know why, I just know

Dan: 17. Because my cousin is 17 and he's having lessons

When Grandma babysits, where do you think Mummy and Daddy are?
Mia: Going for a walk

Dan: At the cinema

What do you think the Queen looks like?
Mia: Blonde hair with a dress and a crown. A bit like Cinderella

What does your brother/sister do to annoy you?

Mia: Teasing me. Giving me a wedgie.

Dan: She butts in all the time saying 'bum face'.

Where do babies come from?

Mia: Your tummies

How do the babies get inside tummies?

Mia: You eat them then they come back out

How much pocket money do you think you should get per week?
Mia: 60hundred pounds.

Who is the cleverest … Mummy or Daddy?
Mia: Mummy cause you're the prettiest.

Dan: Both. Because you both went to middle school and high school and stuff.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Mia: A tickle monster

Dan: A fireman.

If you could be anyone else who would you be?

You. I mean the cat. No Ariel. I don't know.

Dan: Bill Gates.

Who do you think is in charge of the country.

Mia: You.

Dan: The Queen.

If you had children what would their names be?

Mia: Donkey and horsey.

Dan: Nathan and Charlie. NO girls.

Who is Barack Obama?

Mia: Don't know. Can't even say it.

Dan: The President.

Who's your best friend in the whole world?

Mia: Daniel. Cause he's my brother.

Dan: Now ask me some more. Ask me questions about superheroes. Come on mummy, don't give up now I want to keep going. Come on, think think think . . .

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