Once were brushes
A wing-nut plastic item with a sliver coating has been rescued from the jaws of Pickle. What on earth is it? ‘Pickle, where did you get it? What have you broken?’ questions Andrew. Pickle, not surprisingly, doesn’t respond. ‘Bloody Pickle’, says Andrew, ‘he’s always breaking things’.
Yes, you all know what’s coming next. Not bloody Pickle at all. Bloody Andrew it would seem. I picked up the hair brush – now in two pieces. The silver wing nut piece, fit perfectly over the handle. Hmmm… how did this come to be broken Andrew? (Naughty school boy look). It turns out that Pickle was being naughty and Andrew was trying to make a noise to distract him by bashing the hair brush on the table. End of hair brush.
This isn’t the first time Pickle has brought us mystery objects. I found a small metal piece a while ago… well didn’t that cause a flurry in the house. We had to check all the nuts on the wheelie walker, two wheelchairs and then any other metal item in the house.
I’m not sure why Pickle feels the need to collect these things. Perhaps he is really a bower bird in disguise. A bloody big bower bird, without a passion for blue, or yellow…
Meanwhile, Andrew has cajoled Gesso into his arms and like a white flag unfurling, his little head has tipped back and the eyes are closing, sleep is near. My advice, Gesso, is don’t go to sleep. Andrew is in one of his mischievious moods. I wouldn’t be surprised if you woke up and your tail had been painted with rings of squid ink to make you look closer to a lemur. This is Andrew for you. I think he’s really aged 4.1 not 41.