I’ve already told you that Inventive Girl has an imaginary friend, Hilary, and that she knows a PINK monster that lives in the cupboard, she talks to fairies and robots in the woods and has conversations with her reflection. And last week, she introduced us to Grandma Hannah, even though she uses the word ‘Nanny’ for her own grandmother. My Mum is interested in this latest creation, seeing as her own Nan was called Hannah (Celeste’s great-great-‘Grandma’. Spooky?).
Now she’s constructing some kind of Celestial language, most of which I fail to catch, but she does keep on about her ‘Decarie’ (it sounds like Daiquiri, so every time I hear it I’m transported back to La Bodeguita del Medio in Havana circa 1995, spitting out salt), which acts as a cross between her den and her throne. The Decarie is a carefully planned hide-out and has to be just so – upturned table, padded underneath with cushions and then with a PINK blanket and/or blue sarong draped over it (the photo above is an open-top version). It’s only a small child’s table so, inverted, its volume is restrictive. She has to curl into a foetal ball to get inside. Tonight, there’s yet another wail from the nerve centre of the Decarie, which is starting to piss me off. I ask what’s wrong:
“I can’t get comfortable!”
I’m not surprised! Look at the bloody size of it! I suggest that she let it be for now; it’s nearly bedtime anyway. I’ll make her a bigger den tomorrow.
“I want my Decarie!” More fun than a den?
And I want a glass of cider! Less acceptable than wine.