When is a toilet not a toilet?

The Art of TAKING THINGS LITERALLY: IT was one of those events which, as a parent, you hope you’ll never forget.

A two-year-old attempting to have a wee in the toilet of his big sister’s dolls’ house captures the innocence of childhood and gives an indication of the disrespect a little brother is always likely to have for his older sibling’s things.

“That’s not a toilet,” his mother explained. “It is.” he insisted, struggling to comprehend how an adult wasn’t able to grasp what was plain for all to see.

It was shaped like a toilet so it must be a toilet. He held it up as if evidence in a court.

In an entirely literal sense, of course, he could be considered right, but as with my daughter when she reeled in horror after I said her mum had just “popped” outside, the interpretation was sweetly and endearingly wrong.

With adults, objects aren’t usually the subject of literal misunderstandings but the nuances and ambiguity of our language can be so subtle that apparently simple conversations can leave you pulling your hair out.

Not literally, just metaphorically speaking.

It turns out that when you bump into someone you’ve not seen for a while and they say, “Hi. How are you?” they probably aren’t after a list of your ailments.

I’d instead recommend an apology for bumping into them.

Equally, if you say, “I’m doing OK thanks. I’m a bit sick of the shocking weather though.” and they say, “Yeah, tell me about it!” it doesn’t mean that they want you to tell them about a period of weather which really shocked you.

If you say, “Are you busy?” and they say, “Up to my neck in it,” it doesn’t mean they’re about to drown.

Unless perhaps, you’re a lifeguard who’s making conversation during a rescue.

You’re more likely to be taken literally if you exaggerate and you’re more likely to fall foul of a literal misunderstanding if you’re gullable.

Sometimes though, the way forward in a literal sense isn’t always clear, however clever you think you are.

When my daughter recently asked me where poo comes from, I put real thought and effort into my answer.

“Well,” I explained, “When you put food into your mouth it goes down into your tummy and gets mashed up.

“When all the goodness has been taken out of it, what’s left comes out of your bum and that’s poo.”

“Oh right,” she said, “So where does Tigger come from?”


Next week: The Art of Getting Drenched.