Both my lads are still sound asleep and I have been up for 3 hours now. I’m tempted to take the hamsters out of their cages just to have some movement in the house. We have 2 of them. One we bought for Lil Fella for his birthday. He is the most loved pet in the world. Cute. He has been named Darwin. Cute. About a week later Lil Fella announced that Darwin needed a wife. Ah. No thanks dear, one is enough and I am so not paying out for another one just yet with the cage and the food, and the bedding and the ball and the not-to-mention where are you going to fit it and the potential for babies… Absolutely categorically no! Darwin is to be a hamster monk.

I was at work and my iPhone started belting out ‘I’m on Fiiiiire’. I forgot to put it on vibrate so my super funky ring tone was belting out for the office to bop along to. *blush*

“hello?”

“Hello, Mrs UK_Saffa?” my son’s head mistress said tentatively..

“Oh hello,” I said, keeping it light, while my heart sank.

I should explain that I get a fair number of calls from Lil Fella’s school. Lil Fella is a creative soul and also has a hazy view of where the line of authority is in school. From climbing on the roof, to just randomly walking out of class because he’s just had a flash of inspiration, it’s safe to say I am very familiar with the primary school staff. However there are 2 types of calls. There is the first kind which comes from any other member of staff usually to inform of some high jinx, such as my boy while swinging from the roof, had a tumble and is now missing a knee, or that he has systematically influenced every member of the class to stage a protest on the unjust amount of homework, or to tell me he has indeed shown a flash of brilliance and reinvented the jet pack, however he is now flying over the school field, and could I come tell him to get down. These are calls I like, they amuse me. I show just the right amount of serious before hanging up and laughing myself stupid.

Oh but then we have the call from the head mistress. I have had enough meetings with her to know that she is rather fond of Lil Fella but she is the pillar of strictness and he is not to know that! In any case, she indulges him his transgressions, and only gets involved when she can’t ignore it.

“I don’t mean to alarm you,” she starts (I am now alarmed), “Lil Fella is fine but it appears he has smuggled his hamster into school.” Oh, blast it. Really? I take it this is a bad thing?

“Ah,” I said, “Are you sure it’s his? I am pretty sure there was no hamster with us when we left the house this morning..” Ah, hell – did he smuggle it in his pocket? Am I really that dopey in the morning that I don’t realise that there is a living creature in his clothes… “…perhaps, it belongs to someone else?”

“Well you see, I think that it did belong to someone else and Lil Fella has somehow acquired ownership of it…”

As it turned out, there was a cleaner at the college down the road who was giving this thing away to a good home. Oh blast! Some flea invested, diseased rodent is now in the care of my 10 year old son. I made an arrangement to pick up the animal and impress upon my child the seriousness of taking pets to school (Actually to be honest I wanted to leave it there). So off I went to pick up the rat, and his newly acquired pet.

On arrival I decided to use this opportunity to see what Lil Fella would tell me of his own accord.

“Hi Mum,” he smiled gorgeously at me and came over to give me a hug. Angel. Sneaky Angel. “How was your day?” Ever so polite. Angel. Very Sneaky Angel.

“Hello boy,” I smiled back. “How was YOUR day? Did anything INTERESTING happen today?”

“Nah, not really,” This boy is gifted! Not a trace of guilt or anything on the face. Perfect execution of dialogue. Perfect flawless performance. I want to kick him! Let’s play this one out then.

“Oh really?” I say seemingly confused, “I had a call today from your head mistress…”

Sheepish Angel. “Oh yes, there was this one tiny thing…”

I went into indignant mother I-feel-a-lecture-coming-on mode “Lil Fella, what were you thinking and blah blah blah… don’t know where it’s been..you don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl… blah blah blah…and then you were actually going to try and HIDE IT FROM ME!!”

Chastised Angel. “I’m so sorry, but it needed a home, it didn’t have one. It was so sad and scared and I just wanted to make sure it was ok. I’m really REALLY sorry.”

Evil cold-hearted Mother..”Fine, but you don’t touch it! Not until we check it out. DO YOU GET ME!”

“Yes Mum. Thank you Mum. Sorry Mum.” I have melted. I am putty.

The next morning we went down to the pet shop, discovered it was a girl and Lil Fella happily declared her to be Darwin’s wife, I bought it the cage and the food, and the bedding and the ball… And Jemima now has a good home living happily in his room.