Smokey the Magnificent

Failing the Turing Test since 1986


We no longer cosleep, but every morning we are awoken by the arrival of two pesky piglets. It should also be noted that we are currently experiencing a slugfestation, and also that I’m giving up calling Rowan the snortlepig. We don’t call her that any more, and I keep typing Rowan by mistake. So Rowan she is. Hi, Rowan!

Excerpts from this morning:

Miles, staring at the floor: “Mummy, I found a snail!”

Me: “Whoa. Are you sure? Is it a snail or a slug?”

Miles: “No, it’s a snail.”

Me: “Does it have a shell?”

Miles: “Nah, it’s just by itself.”

Me: “That’s a slug.”

Short pause. Miles, delighted: “It IS a slug!”

* * * * *

Miles: “Mummy, dere’s a cockroach! I’m gonna take care of it!”

[He uses the phrase in the Mafia sense, not the nurturing one. I’m OK with that.]

[Miles bustles about]

Miles: “I got a tiny container and put it on top so it can’t escape!”

Rowan, waking up a bit and stretching: “I think it’s dead.”

Miles, enthused: “Yeah, it is! And it can’t walk!”

Me: “Uh, Miles, if it’s dead, do you really need a container over it to stop it escaping?”

Miles, offended: “I do!”

* * * * * * * *

Rowan: “Mummy, what’s your favourite colour?”

Me, sleepily: “Blue.”

Rowan: “Miles, what’s your favourite colour?”

Miles: “Red… and white… and blue…”

Me: “That’s patriotic.”

Miles: “…And red… I like ALL da colours!”

Rowan: “Yes, but you have to pick your one favourite one.”

Miles: “I like ALL da colours are my favourite! Red… and blue…. and white… and green… and brown… and…” [runs out of colours and stares in perplexity at the wall]

Rowan: “Daddy, what’s your favourite colour?’

[Daddy slumbers peacefully]

Rowan: “Well, last time he said red. Red. Do you know what my favourite colour is?”

Miles: “Pink!”

Rowan: “Pink!”

Miles: “*I* like pink! And purple… and red… and blue…”

Rowan, viciously: “Miles, that’s enough!”

Miles: “An’ green! Haha!”

* * * * * * * *

[Miles has temporarily disappeared back to his bed to snooze. He comes running back in a panic.]

Miles: “Mummy, something’s pesking da ceiling!”

Rowan: “It’s probably just a possum or a rat. Don’t worry about it.”

Miles, dramatically: “I’m skeeeeeered of it!”

Rowan: “Oh Miles, there’s nothing to be scared of. It’s just a beast.”

Miles, climbing up onto the bed and wagging his tail: “Do you see my tiny bottoms?”

  1. Trish

    Clearly you mean the children sleep in their own room now rather than that you and the lovely Helpdesk Man are experiencing marital woes. Context lends so much to interpretation, but I was worried there for a second. Then I thought maybe the collarbone thing and maybe you are a tossy turny sleeper. So that’s all good then. How long do we think Miles is going to stay cute? And when he’s big, can we tease him about all the cute stuff he did before? Sorry about the slugs. We currently have a million midges every night, but the ants seem to have gone at least.

  2. Smokering

    Clearly you don’t hang around enough parenting blogs (can’t think why); yes, ‘cosleeping’ refers specifically to pigs sleeping in the same bed as adults. Pigs sleeping in the same bed as other pigs, such as twins who are kept in a mutual cot, are referred to instead as ‘co-bedding’. It’s quite the science.

    Bnonn might be more comfy sleeping alone, actually, but there’s nowhere else in the house for me to sleep, so he just has to deal. Our couch is too short and also leather, which gets chilly in the wee sma’s.

  3. Trish

    I know, I know. I’m not in the club. I must be a whole different world. When the kittens bunch up and snuggle on each other we just stand there and go ‘aawwww,cute’. No science there at all.

  4. Trish

    Meaning ‘it’, naturally.