For nearly five years I’ve been secretly performing an elaborate regular ritual of making sure the stunt-double Snuggly looks the same as the Snuggly about to be put in the washing machine. My heart beats a little faster on swap-over day, ready to field suspicious questions: “Mum, does Snuggly seem a little…pointier nosed than usual? Does the bit of his hat I chewed off look…different to you?” Etc. Today during the Snuggly swap over I got rumbled by the cat. Now I feel like I’m the mother in a “Switched At Birth” made-for-TV-movie where a plucky young journalist knows he’s uncovered a Hidden Secret and is about to break his first Big Story then get hired by the NY Times. I’m going to have to buy Frankie’s silence with grated cheese and tuna brine (dolphin friendly).
“Wow, I see you did some painting at kindy today!” “Yes Mummy. The teachers asked if I wanted to wear an apron, but I said ‘no thank you. It’s ok, Mummy can just wash my clothes. She really loves doing the washing.’” I need to demonstrate to my daughter that I have hobbies above and beyond laundry.