Show me on the dolly..

Good news! I'm not a paedophile! I never thought I was - I can't stand children, which makes the whole thing a non-starter, but this week I got Definite Reassuring Proof that I'm not.

This proof is so good that it overcomes

• the flat full of lego,
  
• the good view of a playground,
  
• that tabloid "All Gays Are Paedos" thing.
  
• the "would you like to come home and play with the cat?" line which works reasonably well on grown up men. Perhaps, you know, I'm unconsciously honing my technique?

Turns out, no. Not a paedo! The proof being that my friends have a toddler. She's adorable (as much as children can be), she's very intelligent, and we have family evenings together watching EastEnders (aka "Mr Shiny Head House")

But, and here's the good news, now she's up and about and mobile, her balance isn't so good. And she'll grab anything nearby for support. And, as I discovered the other day, this means Anything in the same way that a cat sitting on your lap will sharpen its claws on Anything. So, with my falcon crests in a tottering toddler's vice-like grip, what went through my head? Apart from searing pain, the thought "Well, yes, this is the singularly least erotic experience ever. Excellent."

Of course, the second thought was "How do I gently disentangle her without passing out from agony?".

My third thought was that the English language wasn't made for the sentence "Your daughter is grabbing my balls too hard."