Driving home tonight after a delicious meal, my daughter, spontaneous as ever, looks up at me and in her best pirate expression growls; “Arghh! I’m a pirate!”.

What followed was a conversation between a three-year-old pirate, her parrot Steve and me, her “Pirate Daddy”.

Zoe: Arggh! I’m a pirate. You are a pirate too.

Me: Avast, ye scurvy sea dog! Y’best walk the plank.

Zoe: Okay. Daddy, this plank is heavy. I can’t carry it.

Me: (laughing) I said walk the plank, not carry it.

Zoe: I put it down here. That was so heavy, Pirate Daddy.

Me: Shiver me timbers! Where be your parrot, Steve?

Zoe: He flewed away! In the sky. Argggh!

Me: Yar! Next time keep an eye on Steve. A pirate isn’t a pirate without his parrot.

Zoe: Hand me a map. We need to go there. (points) And where we’re there, we then go here.