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).
Tilly: “I hid the hairbrush so you can’t brush my hair. Absoluuuutely don’t look under THAT cushion”. Amy: “I made you something at school for Mothers’ Day. But I’m not supposed to give it to you until Sunday, and I won’t tell you what it is, even if you ask me, cos it’s a surprise. OK IT’S FUDGE! I MADE YOU FUDGE! THERE’S ALSO A CARD!” My daughters need to work on their deception skills if they ever plan on sneaking out when they’re teenagers.
Amy: “Sometimes I tell the troof, and sometimes I’m not telling the troof. And sometimes I SAY it’s the troof, but it’s not really the troof. And sometimes it is really the troof.” Me: “So did you wash your hands, or not?” Amy: “Yes.” Me: “Are you telling the truth?” Amy: “No.” My head hurts.