I have already mentioned this in passing, but my younger son Fingers has now been a parrot for approximately a month. He no longer answers to his name, rolls his bedclothes into a nest shape and refuses to kiss us, but sort of does a pursed lip 'peck'. So we bought him an egg.
He sits in it and squawks.
Sometimes we put a piece of cuttlefish in there with him, or offer him a worm, but he's mainly happy just sitting.
I tend to welcome this kind of phase. It gives me a cheap laugh, which is the best bit of having children, and it's something to throw at them when they are fourteen and they hate us. Lashes combusts with rage and mortification whenever we mention his lengthy pink phase. I know how he feels. I wore boxing gloves every day when I was eight and had a strange fascination with carpet beaters. This is without going into the hideously protracted horsey phase, where, as a frustrated townie, I covered the bottom of my wardrobe with 'chaff' (anyone know what this is? I used to buy it in small bags by mail order along with individually selected lengths of miniature fencing) to create a sort of indoor stable and made our elderly, bad tempered rabbit "show jump" over bamboo poles in the back yard. And wear my Pony Club tie every day. And write creepy fan letters to show jumpers. Actually, enough about my pony thing, it's creeping me out. Hacking jacket. Laminitis. Jodphurs. Hoof oil. Brrrrr. Go on, tell me about yours.
There is little scope for superiority on any side. Because, as he sits in his nest, and I reminisce about by my love affair with some fat shaggy creature smelling of manure, his father is doing this:
There is something terribly appealing about a tortoise in a set of kitchen scales, no? It made me want to take bad, bad pictures, but unfortunately the CFO was at home all day banging things and swearing and filling in his tortoise graph.
You thought that was a joke didn't you?
I will though. The next time he leaves the house. Honestly, the lack of support for my artistic endeavours is a burden, really it is, but my spirit cannot be tamed. Ha! Watch this space.