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Out of the mouths of babes (and clueless husbands!), Hayley Bath hilariously shares the mortifying truths only family can deliver.

Few things humble and embarrass you in life quite like a truthful child. I grew up knowing this well.

My older sister has never lived down the time she humiliated our mum when she was heavily pregnant with me. I can still picture it now — Mum waddling down the main street, my three-year-old sister holding her hand. They pass a rather rotund, rough-looking, patched-up gang member. My sister stops dead in her tracks, looks him up and down, and shouts ‘Look at that big fat man, Mum!’ Mum’s never waddled away faster in her life.

A little later, my sister spots another large-bellied man at the supermarket and asks, “Have you got a baby in your stomach, too?” The man went bright red with embarrassment. So, she doubles down: “Well, it sure looks like it!”

You’d think growing up with that story would have made me cautious. But no, I was lulled into a false sense of security by my sweet, articulate, well-behaved two-year-old. Then, when I was in the final throes of a twin pregnancy, and after sprinting to stop my toddler from running into the road, I damaged the cartilage between my pubic bones. The most painful thing I’ve ever had. And remember, I’ve given birth to twins.

Two weeks of bed rest followed, during which I had to wheat-pack my groin. When I finally made it back to daycare pick-up, the centre manager gently pulled me aside. With a polite but strained smile, she informed me that despite their best efforts to stop her, my daughter had spent an entire week standing at the front gate, loudly greeting arriving parents with: “Mummy’s vagina’s broken!” On repeat. Every. Single. Day.

I’d like to again clarify it was an injury to my pubic bone cartilage. Not what she said. Suddenly, the sympathetic smile from another mum made perfect sense.

But why is it that dads seem to get off so much lighter? My husband was pretty chuffed when one of our boys took to loudly exclaiming to anyone who would listen in public places that “Dad’s got a big penis!”.

I also learned the hard way that husbands can embarrass us just as well as children can. Last week I walked into the lounge just in time to overhear my husband telling his mother we have chlamydia. I nearly spat my tea across the room. “Yeah,” he was saying casually, “We’ve got hydrangeas over there, a weeping cherry tree too… Oh, and we also have chlamydia.” “Excuse me!?” I loudly exclaimed. It took me a beat to realise what he’d meant. “Camellias! We have camellias in the garden!” I screeched out to my blanched mother in law. No chlamydia. Just a hubby taking rookie punts at plant names.

So here I am, still recovering from my child loudly announcing my broken body parts and my husband enthusiastically spreading STD rumours to his mother.

One of these days the ground will kindly swallow me up. Until then I’ll quietly plan my revenge for their 21st and 50th birthday parties.

Catch Hayley on The Hits 95FM weekdays 9am to 3pm.