“We called him Barbar”, they said as they ran in.
Barbar was a very tiny still mole, long snouty nose and very much dead. Fortunately no gaping holes, maggots or innards – just whole mole.
Boo put him in a toy car and pushed him around, “he’s sleeping mummy”. We transferred Barbar back to his natural habitat and washed our hands.
I admire the innocence and curiousity of small children, their natural loving and nurturing sense and their sense of sweet justice, for Boo: ‘he’s just sleeping’. For Fealte: ‘has he gone to heaven mummy?’