WE are fast approaching the point where Ben is apparently needing an explanation for absolutely everything.

And whereas before I could make up any old rubbish and know he wasn’t really taking it in, he is now not so easily fooled.

One answer never seems to be enough, he has at least six or seven more questions lined up to fire at me if he is not satisfied with my response.

The other day we were waiting to order some food at a café (for café, read bar) when he asked what we were doing. I explained we were queuing for food. He then asked what a queue was, so I said it was a sort of line where people waited their turn. He thought about that and asked what a line was, so I said a sort of straight thing. A short consideration later, and he pointed out that the line wasn’t straight but a bit “wibbly wobbly”, which I had to concede it was. We eventually got to the front to my relief before he started asking me about more complex spatial awareness concepts, and the fish fingers were duly ordered.

When we got back to our seats he asked where the food was and I explained the chef was cooking it. Before I knew it the chef was called Jim, he was a nice man who lived down the road and was a dab hand at making chips. It was relentless. When he asked where the food was for a second time, I explained the nice lady would bring it when it was ready. When an unfortunate staff member walked by he made eye contact and then said: “Lady, you got my fish fingers?”

The poor woman wasn’t quite sure how to take being heckled by a two year old. I didn’t know where to put myself so I apologised for my son’s cheekiness and told him not to be so rude. He thought about that and then said: “What’s rude?”