I put down the unpeeled onion and skip over to my son buried in half a tonne of dried cat food.
“It broked,” he explains unnecessarily and delightfully.
“Never mind dear. I'll soon get this swept up.”
“He is be hungrary.”
“Yes I guessed that because of all the yeowling.”
“But you are not be feed him.”
“Yes I'm sorry about that I was trying to feed the humans first.”
I dash out of the utility room into the kitchen where Nonna is helping empty the dishwasher. She waggles a wooden spoon at me. I give up “speech” and try hand signals instead. I point to the wooden spoon pot on the cooker.
“Look it's funny!” he gaffaws. I jump into the family room where the BBC news has finished and the telly shows a scene of supreme unfunniness followed by a haemorroides advertisement. I snap off the power.
“When's dinner gonna be?”
Next Wednesday if there's a full moon and an R in the month.
“Probably about half an hour, hopefully.”
“But I'm starving now!”
“Have a banana.”
“Can you pass me one……please?”
I look at my daughter in a sea of Webkins on the green carpet.
“They're in the fruit bowl dear, help yourself.”
I run back to my onion and hack it for speedy skin removal.
“Where's the fruit bowl?”
“On the dining room table.”
“Why do we call it a dining room?”
“Because the nosebag room is less sophisticated.”
“Right then!” mutters their father with a face full of biscuits.
“Right then what?”
“I'm off to work.”
“But you've only been home 5 minutes?”
“Three actually. See you later.”
“Right then,” Nonna repeats to no-one in particular.
“Right then what?”
“I'm off to bed. Good night.”
“You can't go to bed yet!” I bellow at her retreating form.
“It's only half past six……and you've not had any dinner yet.”
I point at the clock above my head with a very sharp sparkling knife dripping with onion juice.
“Wot? It has stopped?”
“No, if anything it seems to be going faster.”
“Where's he gone den?”
“Work. He's gone to work,” I yell.
“Oh…….it is breakfast time?”
“Not until tomorrow.”
I stop the conversation with an attempt at rapid chopping, which of course is a silent exercise for many people. I put the knife down on the counter and take a deep breath wondering what to explain first. My son charges through the kitchen with a four foot broom in one hand and 12 inch magic wand in the other shrieking, “ seals leaks instantly! Seals leaks instantly! Seals leaks instantly!”
Now that's something I could really use.
This must be why we all blog, for a little “Escapism.” I really should get out more often.