Parenting humor: Who let the ghost out?

Who let the ghost out?

My son Jack, 4, is convinced that one day all my clothes will be too small for me.

My wife Katherine thinks this too. Every time I even look at a Death By Chocolate cake with double cream and red Hundreds and Thousands (sprinkles), she says something like: "Oh, you're going to get soooo fat if you eat that."

But Jack is not just talking about my midriff. No, he thinks, even at 42, I am going to get taller and grow out of all my shoes and clothes.

"It happened to a ghost friend of mine," he told me matter-of-factly today as we made our way to watch one of the latest blockbuster movies to come our way in Canberra.

"Pardon," I said, not quite hearing him correctly in the car. "Your girlfriend?"

"No, my GHOST friend," he repeated in an agitated fashion. "You don't know him."

"Um, no," I said. "And he ... er ... outgrew all his clothes?"

"Yes," said Jack. "He's blind now. That's how he went to heaven. He got run over by a car crossing the road."

"I see," I said. Well, what else do you say to a four-year-old who has a imaginary blind ghost friend?

"Before he went blind, and before he got run over, he got too big for all his clothes," Jack went on. "I think that's going to to you, daddy."

By this time, we had arrived at the cinema to see Rugrats in Paris, an animated movie which is about as blockbuster as movies get for me these days.

There was certainly no danger of me overeating during the movie and growing out of my clothes.

I bought a small tub of popcorn in the kiosk for Jack. That cost $4.10. I estimate that worked out at about five cents for every piece of popcorn.
It seemed expensive but I must not complain.
They threw in a bucket of salt for nothing (and only cynical people would accuse them of doing that so you'd go back to the kiosk to buy an overpriced drink).

I won't spoil the story-line for Rugrats in Paris because I know that many of my readers probably haven't seen it yet.

Basically, however, it is about a bunch of American babies who wind up oui ouing in Paris.

It has a great soundtrack.

Some months ago, Jack picked up on a song that was doing the rounds on radio and television video music shows. It was called Who Let The Dogs Out - and Jack drove Katherine and I cuckoo for more than a week with his rendition of it.

Guess what is one of the main tracks in Rugrats in Paris?
Yep, Who Let the Damn Dogs Out.
And a freshly inspired Jack is howling again.

This time, alas, I have to carry all the burden.

Katherine is overseas on a study trip, so not only am I the sole Rugrats in Paris movie escort, apart from Howling Jack I am the only real person in our house.

Between Jack going from room to room crying "Who? Who?" and his ghost friend jumping from around corners shouting "Boo! Boo!", how am I going to cope for the next week?

Don't tell Katherine, but I may well attempt to ease my stress by eating lots of Death By Chocolate cake with double cream and red Hundreds and Thousands.

Of course, I intend to remove the evidence before she returns.

I just have to convince Jack to back me up.

"What has daddy been eating?" I imagine Katherine will say when she finds me wedged in the kitchen like a giant red-and-chocolate-brown jelly fish.

'Nothing," I'd hope Jack would say.
"I warned him he could become big, mummy. It also happened to a ghost friend of mine."

NB: I called this site Dunno because I kept drawing a blank when I had to put a name to it