Archie, day 1: look, Mum, lockdown rules say you have to be two metres apart. I’m not sure that Pipsqueak is even supposed to be in our house. I could report you for lockdown-breaking and you’ll get a letter from the police (but then they might fine you and you won’t be able to afford to give me salmon). I am not letting him sleep in my bed or even on the same level as me. Two metres, that’s the rule, so I insist on socially distant napping.
A day later
Archie: OK. I’ll agree to nap on the same level as Pipsqueak.
A couple of days later:
Archie: I know Pipsqueak wriggled off your lap. I could get up and huff in dignified protest, as I’ve done every day since he arrived, but right now I can’t be bothered to move. That’s the only reason I’m letting him stay there. (Five minutes later…) He moved again! I give in. There’s enough room on the sofa between you for both of us. Pipsqueak can cuddle up with me. I need to teach him about napping duty, anyway.
Dexter: I’m glad he’s given in, because it’s hard work being eight weeks old…