This afternoon when I arrived home from work, Kit called out, “Hi Mum! I’m a bit tied up in the bathroom.”
“Okay dear,” I called, not wishing to intrude upon his business.
There was an expectant pause, then, “Help!”
A trail of chaos lead me to Kit, actually tied up in the bathroom! Below, I will explain how this came about. Let me begin with some background.
I once lived in a student flat that suffered a moth infestation. I wished they had just eaten my entire ugly jumper instead of nibbling holes in my favourite clothes. I repaid this kindness by turning them into wall paper, with the aid of a fly swatter. Kit has heard this story, and knows I hate moths in the house. Nowadays I don’t kill them, but neither do I offer them a cuddle and tuck them into bed. I simply catch them then let them go. Although no longer a poor student, I would still be annoyed if my clothes got eaten, but that is because I enjoy clothes shopping as much as I enjoy toothache.
So, when Kit discovered a large moth locked in the house after I had left for work, a frantic chase ensued. When he noticed the moth perched on the kitchen window, he climbed my hanging apron to get to the bench. This surprised the moth, which started madly flapping against the window. Startled, Kit stepped backwards onto the spoon from my breakfast cereal, which flicked up like a rake, and hit him in the head. This knocked him into a coffee cup, which slid off the bench and smashed on the floor (which, according to Kit, was my fault because of where I left the spoon). Kit then ran at the moth, and tried to catch it, knocking over the dishes on the bench while he was at it, and also spilling a puddle of dish washing liquid (I hadn’t closed the lid).
When the moth escaped the kitchen, Kit abseiled down my apron strings, which tore right off the apron. Leaping to the floor, he bounded after the moth and cornered it in the bathroom. The moth did the sensible thing and flew up to the ceiling. Kit did a less sensible thing, and climbed up to the shower curtain rail via the bin, the shower curtain, and the shower caddy, dislodging all its contents on the way. Once on top of the rail, Kit tied himself to the shower curtain for safety, and crept towards the moth.
Suddenly he lost his balance, and slipped off the railing, leaving him dangling helplessly tied up in the curtain, where he remained for two hours, waiting for me to get home.
“So, where’s the moth?” I asked as I gently untied him.
“Before I slipped, I ate it!” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
We’re getting new fly screens. For the sake of the crockery.