Oscar went to a party on Sunday afternoon.
When he got back, he rushed straight into the house shouting:
‘Tilly! Tilly! There was a magician at the party – and he had a live ferret!’
This caused great squawking from upstairs, as Tilly is a devotee of the ferret, or indeed any furry beast that breathes (goats are her current favourite – sadly the magician did not supply goats).
Once he had caused a suitable commotion he came belting into the office where I was trying to make sense of some tedious piece of paperwork, thrust the magician’s business card into my hand (I wonder if David Copperfield has business cards?), and said:
‘Mama! You need to ring him up – NOW!’
There was a pause while I didn’t.
Then he said:
‘He has a real, live, ferret.’
I acknowledged this wonder and still failed to ring him up, pointing out that there wasn’t enough dinner to go round.
Yesterday morning after breakfast, he came to find me – with business card in hand…
‘Mama, have you rung him yet?’
I love the fact that he is canny enough not to say, ‘can he come to my birthday party?’ because this would entail waiting another year. He is just proposing that we ring him on a kind of casual, are you available to come round for afternoon tea, and by the way, bring your ferret, sort of way.
He has not mentioned it this morning – yet.
I’m sure he will.
Yesterday, when I sent him away with a flea in his ear I heard him muttering:
‘At least I got to stroke that ferret…’