You’ve got to hand it to Tiddles McGee. When The Pixie and her little friends recently declared her room to be GIRLS ONLY, he did what any male would do. He put a pillow case over his head, and patiently sat outside the closed door, hoping to “surprise” them.
Eventually, The Pixie opened the door.
“We all know it’s you, [Tiddles]!” she said, with scarily well-honed teen-style exasperation for a six year old. “Look, you can come in but only if you pretend to be a dog.”
“WOOF!” Tiddles piped up immediately with great enthusiasm.
“Aw, look everyone!!! It’s a really cute puppy!!” The Pixie exclaimed tenderly, as she led her brother, crawling on his hands and knees into the GIRLS ONLY zone – like a whipped cur.
The Pixie, herself, is prone to the odd bit of role play – “odd” being the operative word here. Her latest thing is that she likes to play ‘Robots’ with her friend Little Miss E.
They go around asking questions about the world such as “What is that?” and “Why are you putting it in your mouth and chewing it?” and then even “And what does ‘chewing’ mean?”. I, personally, am waiting for the “What does ‘What does that mean’ mean?” question, at which point I think my head will completely explode.
One day, I found The Pixie completely distraught because Little Miss E had told another little girl a special secret.
“What was the secret?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you,” she said, sadly.
“You can tell me anything…” I told her. “Anything!”
“Okay, I’ll whisper it in your ear,” she said and leaning into me, whispered: “I’m a robot.”
“Oh!” I said. “You know, you guys were playing that game and she might have thought it was just part of the game.”
“It’s not a game,” The Pixie replied solemnly. “I really am a robot.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, unsure of how to react to this rather surprising news. “Uh… how long have you known?”
“I’ve known since I was a baby,” she said simply, before adding reassuringly: “But it’s okay, Mummy! I’m happy being a robot.”
“Well, I love you whether you are a robot or a real girl or some kind of mutant cyborg,” I told her and gave her a big hug. She felt like a real girl, but apparently that’s because her metal bones are covered with soft rubber. Nice.
Anyway, it turns out that having a robot for a daughter is not without its benefits. For one thing, I’ve discovered there’s a switch to the side of her head which I can turn to get her to sleep. I wish I’d known about that when she was a baby.
Also, apparently I never have to worry about her being lonely.
“Do you know who will be with me until I’m very very old?” she asked my husband. “Little Miss E! She will always be by my side!”
Since this revelation, further intelligence has come in that her friend Little Miss E is a robot, too, and that there is a giant robot spaceship above the clouds which will take them both away when they are “all growned up”. Apparently, Little Miss E’s dad – my Facebook Friend – is guaranteed a place on the spaceship because he’s a cyborg, a fact that quite possibly came as somewhat of a surprise for him.
Now, I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m really hoping to prove my own cyborg credentials and secure a place on that robot spaceship. What with all the flooding and bushfires ’round these parts in recent times, it’d be good to know there was an exit strategy when the shit really goes down…
Just for the record, I asked The Pixie if I could blog about her being a robot. She nodded sagely and said “But only if you tell everyone that it’s real.”