Daughter: Can u wash Mr Bear ?
Me : What ?
Daughter : He’s covered in tuna and pasta..smells disgusting
Me : Mr Bear ?
Daughter : Yes, Mr Bear….you know the one I’ve had since I was 5..I woke up in the middle of the night to find him face down in a pool of pasta and tuna. It was very traumatic for me mum.
Me: Well maybe you should stop eating in your room or at the very least ….wash your dishes.
Daughter looks at me as though I am speaking a strange mix of Klingon & Patois embellished with a little cockney slang..
Daughter : Can you wash him please?
Me : Yes if you bring it down within the next 5 minutes.
Daughter looks a little wounded.
Daughter: Do you know how offensive you’re being right now?
Me : What have I said ?
Daughter : You called him….it
Me : Don’t be so silly…go and get the bear
Daughter: The bear?
Me : Yes.
Daughter: The bear ?
Me : For the love of.. yes, the bear..
Daughter : You mean Mr Bear…go and get Mr Bear
Me : Yes the teddy bear. Bring it down please
Daughter : Are you deliberately trying to hurt me mum?
Me: I am finding this conversation very, very, very disturbing…
Daughter : Mr Bear is one of us. Never forget that mum. Never.