I think, once again, my daughter has invented her own version of a game. Twice a week, her grandparents pick her up from school, so twice a week she requests (read demands) that I drop off a toy at their house, for use in the evening’s activities.
Think of it as a side quest: you pick up an object that you have no use for now, but you will most definitely need in the future.
So, over the past few weeks, I have stopped by and handed bemused grandparents: a medium sized stuffed Dalmatian that goes buy the name of Tiny Marshall; a small black stuffed dog (called Hairy Maclary – from the books); a squeaking guinea pig (that she swears is a hamster); several unicorns; and, today, a 2ft giraffe.
The giraffe came with an explanation; this is the mummy giraffe, because the daddy giraffe has to look after Apple Juice (that’s the baby giraffe’s name. Obviously) and Apple Juice can’t come because s/he (I’m still not sure of the gender of this one) isn’t washable. Mummy giraffe is hand washable and which means someone (guess who!) will be able to clean it when she invariably gets chocolate and/or banana on it.
When I point out that chocolate is one thing, but I had to use a pet comb on Hairy McClary to clear out the spider eggs she got on it after dumping it in her bike’s basket, she got rather cross.
I left the giraffe with her grandmother looking at it, anxiously wondering what on Earth they may need it for that evening.
I never did find out, but everyone looked cheerful when she came home, happy and full of chocolate, so I assume it served its purpose.
I can’t wait to find out what she thinks she’ll need for the next visit.
Raising the Modern Fae 