“Oh god, you still have magic sperm coming out of your mouth,” said DS1 to the wife. Now this may be a difficult sentence to swallow, especially coming from a nine-year-old. Can I get any more innuendo in here? While you return your bottom jaw to its correct position, allow me to explain. We went to see Fantastic Beasts: the Crimes of Grindelwald, last weekend – in 3D don’t you know. All clear, now? No?

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“It’s all your fault and I never want to speak to you again,” DS1 wailed. “Oh, it’s my fault that you stubbed your toe, is it?” I queried. “But I wasn’t even in the same room as you.” It was all too apparent that DS1’s equilibrium was still not quite level; a fact that was confirmed later by the discovery of a lump of cucumber floating in the downstairs toilet. I had thought it strange

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“My brain is wasted on this idiot,” said DS1, as I failed to grasp what he was talking about. I’m clearly not in his intellectual league anymore – if I ever was. It’s hard living with a genius, you know – just ask the wife. Last weekend, we went to see Grannie. Something we hadn’t done for a fair few months – the boy being somewhat reluctant to venture beyond the front door. “It’s non-negotiable,” said

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Potter is back. I’ve left the boy casting spells at the TV while he watches the seventh Harry Potter film, as he nears the end of his back-to-back film-watching marathon. What started as an innocent “Shall we watch a film” on a wet Friday during half-term, which saw us select the first episode in the Potter franchise for the want of anything better, has turned into a rekindling of his obsession with the school of

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