I wonder what Mr B.R. Ponds of 2 Kings Road, Brislington, Bristol would have made of it all? If he'd have witnessed My Girl hiding in his old trunk that I found at an Antique's shop in Weston, would he have smiled knowingly or would he have thought to himself, "Tsch! Kids today"?
Mr Ponds' old suitcase (where has it travelled to? From one street in Bristol to the next? Or across oceans?) is now used as a dressing-up trunk for Butter-Wouldn't-Melt Girl and is chocka with sarongs, shoes, bags and fairy skirts. Last night she took all the uncomfortable objects out of this trunk - Bob the Builder hat, small plastic PINK box, tea-set (no, I don't know either) - placed herself inside it, laid down foetal-like and shut the lid. Cute, I thought.
"I want to sleep in the box."
"Come on Celeste, it's time for bed. You need to get undressed now."
"I sleep in the box."
"Ok, one more hide. I'll count to 10. 1, 2, 3 ..... (send a tweet) .... 9, 10. Coming ready or not." I open the lid.
"NOoooooooooooooooo! I sleep in the box."
And on and on. Round and round and ....
"If you don't come out and get undressed for bed, there's no story tonight." Meanie.
"I don't want a story. I sleep in the box."
I lifted her out and put her into bed in the t-shirt she was wearing, sticking to my guns. No story tonight for you Young Lady! She obviously wasn't happy about Mum turning disciplinarian but she has to learn, right?
About five minutes later, I was just thinking how quiet and still it all seemed when I heard a 'splish' sound. I turned away from twitter to see Extremely Cheeky Girl standing at the front room door spraying water in my direction. Now THAT's remorse!