We have a vacuum cleaner at work, a Pacvac Superpro 700, which Kit saw me use once. He was fascinated, as he had never seen a backpack vacuum cleaner. While I cleaned, he rode along on top of it, staving off boredom by inspecting the harness. I staved off boredom by suffering a pain in my head and neck. This came about when he fell, grabbed hold of my hair to regain his balance, and simultaneously knocked my glasses off and kicked me in the neck. Then he said (rather ironically, I felt), “Phew! That was close.”
“Kit!” I chastised, “You are literally a pain in the neck.”
“Good one Mum! That’s funny,” he giggled. (It wasn’t.)
Unbeknownst to me, he then he decided to see how it all held together, and undid the Velcro. Unfortunately, the Velcro was the only thing keeping the vacuum on my back. Kit was sitting on the vacuum when he undid the Velcro, so this time he did go for a tumble. But, in true Kit style, he found something soft to land on, or, more accurately, to land in. Kit’s saviour was an unidentified substance that had once been lunch, but had been unfit for that label for quite some time, judging by the smell of it (and later Kit); he had gracefully dismounted straight into a rubbish bin! I dissuaded him from licking his fur, and took him home for a bath.
A few months later, Kit asked me to write a new story about him as the Superhero, First Aid Kit. But this time he wanted his superpower to involve flying around with his Jetpack.
“Like the one at your work,” he explained, “the Jetpack Uberpro 1000.”
“Actually, it’s called a Pacvac Superpro 700,” I corrected, “And you really did go flying last time you got near one.”
He glared at me, “But mine’s different. It’s a jetpack for flying around on purpose. Not a stupid vacuum cleaner designed especially for falling off. That vacuum cleaner just gave me the idea.”
He continued, “I could fly around and rescue people from the baddies. I was going to feed the baddies to Tiddles, my pet T-rex, but then I remembered he’s a vegetarian.
“Just how bad are the baddies?” I asked, troubled, “Do you really think they deserve to die?”
“Everyone dies,” Kit replied, “Whether they deserve it or not.” I couldn’t argue with that.
He went on, “And they’re pretty bad baddies. Maybe I could suck them up in a giant Superpro vacuum cleaner, and keep them there, like a kind of prison.”
“Okay. That could work,” I agreed. But I wasn’t so sure about his next request:
“If I’m not allowed to kill them, how about this? They get trapped in the vacuum cleaner and have to listen to you lecturing about cleaning up after themselves, and Dad telling jokes. Forever. I’m pretty sure they deserve that!”