Last week, our real estate agent inspected the apartment I share with Kit and His Dad. Unfortunately, the light fittings in our residence are somewhat accident-prone. Ever since we moved here, I find I only have to speak sternly and one of them breaks. Usually this occurs just in time for an inspection.
I asked Kit to tidy his room. He started by putting away all the big stuff, like toys and books. Then he moved onto clothes. Whenever I put piles of clean, folded laundry on his bed, he is supposed to put them away. It is surprising how much time procrastination takes if you are keen to do a really thorough job of it. When bedtime comes, if the clothes are still on the bed, he simply pushes them onto the floor. After he had put away the toys and books, I caught him playing with his toy bulldozer. No prizes for guessing what he was pushing around.
“Kit!” I implored, “Put the clean clothes down, and move away from the bulldozer. I would like you to put them away before they get mixed up with the dirty ones. I can assure you, I am not volunteering to do the sniff test, nor do I intend to wash them all again. Goodness knows, I have enough to do, what with thinking of increasingly imaginative ways to break all the light fittings.”
I didn’t actually say that last bit, but it was going through my mind. I left him eating dead beetles, and set about removing the largest light cover in the next room. I am not sure that its main function as a moth crematorium allows it to be as ornamental as was originally intended, but it was my job to make it appear so.
I stood on the bed, fiddling with screws and latches, finally wrestling the round oyster cover from its fixture. As I intended to do the vacuuming last, I upended it, and used a cloth to wipe it free of moths. Suddenly there was a crunching noise at my feet. I leapt back in alarm, dropping the light cover…..and saw Kit on the floor eating the moths! He looked up and deftly dodged the cover as it landed and broke in two.
“Oh, Mum. Not again!” he chided, “That’s the tenth one.”
“Actually, it’s only the third one,” I objected.
“Only?” he said sarcastically.
“If you hadn’t startled me, it would only be two!”
“Well, you can’t go around dropping barbequed moths on the floor, and expect me to ignore them. Yum!” he crunched.
An idea started to form in my mind. If we could only keep the moths out of the light covers in the first place, there would be no need to take them off to clean them. Who better to keep the apartment moth-free than the furry little moth-muncher at my feet.
“Kit,” I said, “How would you like to earn some extra pocket money?”