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.