Last week, Kit decided to count the number of bugs he could fit in his pillowcase. I was pleased that they were (mostly) dead bugs. Not that a bug can be mostly dead. It is either dead or it isn’t (yet if Kit is nearby). I mean to say that most of the bugs were dead.
Kit set up his bugs like two armies, in much the same way that other children play with toy soldiers. I asked him what they were doing and he said it was a Beetle Battle, and could he please have some noodles?
“If you’re hungry, I can make you a sandwich” I offered.
“No thanks. It needs to be noodles,” he replied.
“But why?” I asked.
“I’ll explain later. Now, can I please have those noodles?” he asked.
So I cooked Kit some instant noodles, and took them to him.
“Thanks,” he muttered, “But you didn’t need to cook them.”
“You could have told me that two minutes ago!” I exclaimed.
“You never asked,” he pointed out.
I surveyed the carnage, and slowly backed out of the room. I was sure that Kit would tell me what on earth was going on as soon as it suited him.
Half an hour later, I heard crunching, and peered around the door to find Kit munching on some of the beetles.
“Are you eating the casualties?” I asked him.
“No,” he replied through a mouthful of wings and legs, “I prefer my food fresh. I’m eating the survivors.”
Unwilling to start an argument, I left that contradiction alone.
Kit continued, “Do you think we could get a dog?”
“No, dear. I don’t think we’re allowed a dog in our apartment,” I explained gratefully.
“Well, do you think we could borrow one for a bit? Preferably a poodle, but a labradoodle would do because that would also rhyme. It would make things easier.”
“What exactly do you want with a labradoodle?” I asked impatiently.
“My reenactment of Dr Seuss’s ‘Fox in Socks’,” he explained, “I’m just doing the bit where beetles battle beetles with their paddles on a noodle eating poodle.”
So we agreed to make a fake poodle out of whatever we could find, which turned out to be an old stuffed toy dog, called Muppet. His main failing was that a year of enforced cuddling from a toddler had left him as bald as that same toddler’s bottom. But Kit was happy with his battle scene.
I’m just relieved that he didn’t try to reenact my favourite children’s story, “Dip the Puppy’, by Spike Milliagan. Because that would have involved dropping all my knives and forks down the toilet!