With 3 boys under 5, there’s never a dull moment. Certainly never a quiet one… Buggy Blogger mum to J (4), B (3) and S (1) finds hers sons' funny bones.

"Knock Knock! Who's there? Doctor. Doctor who? Doctor Who! Ha ha ha ha ha . "

My eldest has just side-splittingly discovered the joys of playground jokes. Unfortunately, that old chestnut the Doctor Who gag is the funniest he's managed so far.

Variations to date have included : "Knock Knock! Who's there? A house. A house who? A house walking down the street!" and "Knock Knock! Who's there? A rabbit. A rabbit who? A rabbit walking down the street!" Hmmm. Not exactly racing towards a Perrier Best Newcomer award yet is he?

But am I being too harsh a critic? Though the content might be sketchy, surely it's the way you tell 'em that counts? In which case a sound piece of advice to this budding young comic might be timely:- when testing out new material it's often more than sufficient to tell your joke just the once. To tell a dodgy gag once is questionable, twice is pretty iffy, but 20 times in a row is simply beyond droll.

But hey, at least he's enjoying himself. As he also does with daft rhyming games ("it's a right scream . beam . team . dream ." you get the picture). And with the hysterical echo game in which he copies everything I say in which he copies everything I say. Very witty.

But engaging in verbal chicanery at least makes a change from the boys' general hilarity at physical funnies. Like scrambling gigglingly over and under each other, horsy-horsy-riding daddy, rocket-lifting with mummy, and tickling to the point of tears. Usually mine as I realise I've done myself a back injury.

Or how about watching a bit of good ol' fashioned slapstick? Though I find Brum the most tedious thing on CBeebies (bar the Night Garden) J and B are in stitches as the bloke in green dungarees is accidentally hit in the face by a flying gnome or whatever. And S looks set to follow in his brothers' funny-walking footsteps as he just can't get enough of watching them horsing around. The Chuckle Brothers exemplified.

As if things couldn't get any funnier, all 3 of them delight in a bit of toilet humour. B's at the stage of getting his kicks from referencing poo poo at every other breath. "What shall we eat for lunch?". "Poo poo!" "What would you like to do this afternoon?" "Poo poo!" And, of course, "knock knock! Who's there? Poo poo!"

J at the grand old age of 4 is of course far too grown-up to indulge in such facetious banalities. But if anyone mentions farts, he's beside himself with sniggers. Meanwhile S is keen to get in on the act, blowing cunningly executed raspberries at choice random moments, usually when we've got company. Ahh, the old ones are the best eh?

And the last laugh is still on me. Because though I kid myself they'll grow out of this sort of thing soon enough I know that's a load of (farty?) pants. Toilet humour and comedy knocks are the essence of blokeish humour from the cradle to the grave. So that means we're pretty much there already then in terms of sophistication. Bar sexual innuendo and Mother-in-Law jokes of course.

Blimey, so it's only going to degenerate rather than improve then. Suppose I'd better join the Brum appreciation society and invest in a whoopee cushion before it's too late.

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