Tuesday, 26 January 2010
The Youngest has a steadily growing menagerie of fluffy toy animals.
Her favourite is a cat called... wait for it... Catty. She also has a red rabbit called Mini, and a ferret. The ferret's called Ferret. Clearly this family lacks imagination when it comes to naming things. Santa gave her Ferret when he came to visit her playgroup just before Christmas. She unwrapped it and was instantly smitten. I hooted with laughter and said, 'Ooh a ferret, how fitting!' Which prompted rather an odd look from Santa, although I'm not sure why. I meant because she's wriggly, not because she smells.
She insists on Catty, Mini and Ferret accompanying her wherever she goes. This is a logistical nightmare. Carrying them all at the same time and actually getting anywhere is nigh on impossible, but the suggestion that anyone be left behind leads to tears of genuine heartbreak, and so instead she stumbles and staggers along, every so often dropping one of them and shrieking. She has recently learned to use the bathroom by herself, and so naturally Catty, Mini, and Ferret must come to admire her every visit. Not only this, but I have to pretend that Catty is meowing in appreciation whenever anything is deposited in the toilet.
Tonight when I picked The Youngest and Middle Son up from seeing Mr S, and had got them settled and strapped in the car, I noticed that Catty was not meowing quite as enthusiastically as usual. When we got home I gave The Youngest a small snack and a drink of milk, and then took her upstairs to brush her teeth and put her pyjamas on. She stubbed her toe, and instead of crying for two seconds and then moving on to the next thing as would normally happen, she just cried and cried. I scooped her up, and she snuggled in my lap, and I felt her forehead. Definitely a bit hot. And then when I asked her what she would like for her bed time story she said, 'I don't want a story'. She didn't want a song either. She just wanted to be tucked up with her Ferret and her Catty and her Mini.
This is unheard of. Frankly I don't think she can be blamed for deciding against my rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star - perhaps she has been humouring me all this time and has finally reached the end of her rope - but to not want a story...
I'm worried now. I keep feeling the urge to go and check on her. I hope she's not coming down with something nasty.