Pickle

Everyone should have a little Pickle in their life.

Mine is a constant source of amusement, bemusement, bafflement and amazement.

He is rapidly becoming the king of the anecdote, regularly launching into these descriptions of something that happened in a Pokemon game, of which I know zip, nadda, nuffink, not a Scooby Doo - not that this puts him off. But he tells it in that sing-song lilt, with his voice going up at the end of each sentence like he's asking a question - if you've ever seen American Pie and can remember 'This one time?.. at band camp?..' then you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.

Nobby and I exchange secret smirks every time he starts.

'Did you know? I was playing with the Thingmebob? [I can't/don't want to remember what they're really called]

and he uses a rock weapon? [a what?]

and I was versing the Dooda? [I am actually at a loss for coming up with a better term for him to use than 'versing'. It says 'Thingmebob versus Dooda on the screen so he uses versing as a verb... and I'm gonna let him.]

and I only had a grass weapon [?]

and I destroyed his Pokemon? [hurrah]

and is grass really stronger than rock?' [... ooh, that really WAS a question, better switch face from screensaver and attempt an answer.]

We now have a code for when he's going on and on and on and I've had enough of pretending to listen. I just say 'a-ha... h-hm...yup...really?...oh yeah?...a-ha...h-hm' and he usually breaks off and runs at me for a good-natured tussle to show his disapproval that I don't want to take an interest in his life's passion. I suppose he has a point, I am such a bad Mummy.

Last week we had International Day at school. Pickle ended up sitting in the front row of the audience with the rest of his class. And at one point the headmistress was sitting right beside him. I pointed it out to him on a photo yesterday and he told me,

'Yes, that was pretty scary, having the Boss of the whole school next to me.'

Shame I'm not the Boss of the whole school. I had the misfortune to teach his class today because I was substituting for the usual teacher, who has succumbed to the hot-house of germs which is the average primary school and taken to her bed with the flu. Well, they say never work with kids and animals, and I have been happily flouting the first rule till now. Trouble is my own kid is an animal when he has a captive audience and Mummy at the blackboard. What a horror.

To get back in my good books tonight he wrote me out a poem that he borrowed from Horrid Henry:

"Dear Old Wrinkly Mum
Don't be glum
Cause ya got a fat tum
and a even bigger bum
Love from your son
Pickle "

Sweet little thing.