Category: Writing life

Dexter: Tell me a bedtime story, Arch.
Archie: I’m trying to go to sleep, here, Pipsqueak.
Dexter: Pleeeeeeease? Pretty please with extra biscuits?

Archie, sighing: All right. Hansel and Gretel. Once there were two children. They went through the forest.
Dexter: What’s a forest?
Archie: Oh, yes, you haven’t been there yet. It’s lots of trees. Like the bit we walk through to the park. Anyway, in case they got lost, Gretel sprinkled a trail of breadcrumbs behind her so they’d be able to find their way out.
Dexter: Didn’t the birds just scoff the breadcrumbs, so they would’ve got lost anyway?
Archie: This is a story, not real life.
Dexter: You make Mum do that with your kibble. Sprinkle a trail from you to your bowl.
Archie: It takes longer to eat — and that means someone has to hold you for ages so you don’t scoff my dinner. Hahaha.
Dexter: And so you get all the attention. I’m not sure I still love you.
Archie: Yeah, you do. Anyway. They found this cottage made of cake and started scoffing it. A bit like you dive into my bowl like a hooligan, scatter my dinner everywhere and scoff it.
Dexter, ignoring the comment about dinner: You can’t live in a house of cake. What if it rains? It’d be soggy and collapse.
Archie, sighing: I told you, this is a story. The witch who owned the cottage came home and said they could live with her.
Dexter: But they ate her house. She must’ve been cross. Why did she let them live with her?
Archie: She had an evil plan: to fatten them up and eat them! [Does blood-curdling scary growl.]
Dexter: This isn’t a very nice story.
Archie: It’s all right, Pipsqueak. They escaped and followed the breadcrumbs home. And they all lived happily ever after. Night night.
Dexter, grumbling: That was a rubbish story…

Dexter: Arch, what’s a haircut?
Archie: Horrible.
Dexter: Riiiiight. But what’s a haircut?
Archie: It’s where Mum lures you into the utility room with a biscuit — and then she shuts the doors. And then she gets out the clippers and shaves your hair.
Dexter: What, all of it? So you’re bald, like Dad?
Archie: No. You still have hair. Just it’s a lot shorter. Dad doesn’t have much, so when she put the clippers on him there isn’t any hair left.
Dexter: We share clippers with Dad?
Archie: No. We have our own clippers. I hate having haircuts. It takes AGES. And it’s not very dignifying.
Dexter: Do you get sausage after?
Archie: Hmm. We might get ham. We only have cold sausage right now because of puppy class.
Dexter: Ham’s good. Go and have your haircut, then ham it up — geddit? — so we both get ham.

(Post haircut)

Archie: You know what everyone’s going to say, now my hair’s as short as yours. They’re going to say you got shrunk in the wash… And you’ve got your eyes closed. Honestly. What have I taught you about posing for pictures, Pipsqueak? Eyes open and look sad. (Then everyone feels sorry for you and sends treats.)

Dexter: Arch, I’m ready for more important work now.
Archie: No, you’re not, Pipsqueak. You’re four months and two days old.
Dexter: But I am ready. I am! I’ve mastered sit-at-feet-during-revisions, I’ve mastered remind-Mum-it’s-lunch, and I can jump up on the sofa AND I can put my entire front legs on your back when we have a wrestle, so I’m big enough.
Archie: All right, then. If you think you’re so great — sit on Chloe’s lap and have a read through. Make notes in track-changes where you think Mum ought to do something different.

Dexter (reads furiously) : Well, OK. There aren’t any dogs, any sausages, or any bones in this book. I think Mum needs extra revisions.
Archie: She doesn’t, she needs a cuddle.
Dexter: Nope. Extra dogs. Here, here and … here.

 

(with apologies to Monty Python)

We are span-i-els and we’re OK
We sleep all night and we play all day

We chew up shoes, we dig big holes
When we’re excited we pee
On Wednesdays we have puppy class
(Archie: psst, Pipsqueak, it’s Tuesdays)
(Dexter: I know but we’re doing the song)
And sausages for tea

We are span-i-els and we’re OK
We sleep all night and we play all day

We chew our toys, chase tennis balls
We like biscuits that crunch
We like porridge for breakfast
And cheese toasties for lunch

We are span-i-els and we’re OK
We sleep all night and we play all day

We go for walks (we hate our leads —
We’d rather run around)
We like barbecued chicken
And whatever we can scrounge

We are span-i-els and we’re OK
We sleep all night and we play all day…

 

Archie: Settle down, Pipsqueak, and I’ll tell you a bedtime story. Once there was a little girl called Goldilocks. She was really naughty and into everything — like you — and she broke into the three bears’ house and scoffed their breakfast!

Dexter: Look, I said sorry for stealing your biscuit.

Archie: You’re not sorry in the slightest. Anyway, guess what their breakfast was?

Dexter: Oh, wait, I know this one — it’s like Mum’s breakfast, isn’t it? Porridge! Can we have porridge now?

Archie: No. You have to wait for breakfast. Anyway, Goldilocks tried Daddy’s Bear’s porridge and it was too hot.

Dexter: Like Mum’s is, so she makes us wait until the end before we get our share.

Archie: Exactly. Then Goldilocks tried Mummy Bear’s porridge and it was too cold.

Dexter: Like Mum’s is when she gets distracted by work and forgets the porridge is in the microwave.

Archie: You’ve got it. And then she tried Baby Bear’s porridge and it was just right. So she scoffed the lot. Just like you scoffed my biscuit.

Dexter: I did say sorry.

Archie: But you’re not sorry. You’re a biscuit-thief.

Dexter: This is meant to be my bedtime story. What happens next?

Archie: She went to sleep in one of the beds. A bit like you go to sleep when you’ve had food. And the bears came home and were a bit cross with her. 

Dexter: Is this about your biscuit again?

Archie: No. Anyway, what happens after that depends on which version you use. There’s one by Robert Southey (Mum says it might not be the original because he got it from his uncle, and he might’ve got mixed up over a fox) where it was an old woman instead of Goldilocks, and she jumps out of the window and is never seen again.

Dexter: This is about your biscuit.

Archie: And there’s a later one where her mum tells her off, Goldilocks apologises and she promises to be good.

Dexter: I knew it was all about your biscuit. All right. I’m sorry and I won’t scoff your biscuit again…

Hey diddle diddle
The cat and the fiddle
The cow jumped over the moon
The little dog laughed when porridge came out
And Dexter ran away with the spoon… (Or at least tried to!)

 

Dexter: Hey, Arch! Look, if I stand underneath you, we look as if we’re a dog with two heads. We can be Cerberus!

Archie: Oh, Pipsqueak. I need to teach you properly about Greek mythology. (Mum did Classics for A level so I know stuff.) Cerberus, the dog who stands at the gate to Hades, has three heads. Though Hesiod said he had fifty.
Dexter: Fifty heads? Imagine what dinner time would look like in his house. Kibble EVERYWHERE…
Archie: Dinner time is bad enough with just you! Leaping headfirst into your bowl and smacking it about with your paw means the kibble goes everywhere.
Dexter: Yeah, and Dad complains about how standing on little bits of kibble feels like standing on Lego. That’s the plan.
Archie: Lego?
Dexter: No. Mum’s clever, so she’ll soon see it stays in the bowl if she puts a little bit of meat juices on it, like she does on Pasta Night. If Dad complains enough, we’ll get meat juices on our kibble every night.
Archie: Oh, Pipsqueak. I don’t know how to tell you that red meat is only once a week. And Chloe’s vegan…