The pair of them are on the sofa, trying and failing to navigate some Paw Patrol videos on YouTube, while I work at the kitchen table.

I’m making an effort to let them do a bit of “surfing” as I genuinely do worry that my 1980s approach to technology is possibly going to leave them completely inept when the rest of their classmates are flying through tinterweb. Honestly, mine can use the tellybox remote, but that’s the height of scrolling here.

They’re on the search bar and Mini-Me is trying to type in what they’re looking for…It’s PAW PATROL! She starts to spell P…A…Princess (who is ALL about pretending she has a CLUE how to spell right now), interrupts:

“Pah – awww – pap” (pause for effect)

“Aaaaaaaaa”

“TROLL”.

“POP A TROLL…”

Sorry what now?

“What are you spelling Darling?” I ask. “Paw Patrol” she answers. There’s that look again. The one that is now daily occurrence. The ‘Seriously Mammy how do you NOT know this’ look.

“Say it slowly for me?” I’m trying not to laugh.
“Pop A Troll”

Aaaaaah OK. SO it seems that the cartoon that has been constantly on our tellybox and with which her bedroom is literally filled, has in HER head been called “Pop a Troll…”

I don’t think I’ll bother trying to explain this one. It’s too cute and now I can not unhear it!

Kind of reminds me of realising that Coronation Street was not in fact Corn Nation Street and that Emma Dale was not an actual person.