The boy is obsessed with Paddington. We went to the cinema to see the film and then on holiday recently he spent his pocket money on a toy Paddington bear. He's even developed a taste for marmalade sandwiches.
As a kid I adored Paddington too. I loved the books and the cartoon series on TV and when I bought my first car, a clapped out old Mini, I called it Paddy because it was the same blue as Paddington's duffle coat.
So as an Easter present we got the boy the Paddington movie on DVD. We had all enjoyed the film and we figured that with the boy's hyperactivity issues it would be a less dangerous gift than loads of chocolate Easter eggs.
Little did we know this was to be an error of judgment.
The other Sunday afternoon I was in the tip that doubles as my office, when the boy kept running in with mischief gleaming from his eyes and trouble written all over his face, declaring,
"I'm not doing something.'
This without fail always means he is doing something and that 'something' is always something he shouldn't be doing.
I went to look in the lounge but I couldn't see any thing untoward going on. I went back to checking my emails in the office. The boy kept laughing, looking sheepish and running in at regular intervals to reassure me that he wasn't doing anything.
I went to have another look but he stopped me,
"Go back to the computer,' he giggled
I was getting nervous now.
It's at this point in the story I think I should tell you that hubby was up a ladder clearing out the guttering at the side of the house, so when I heard running water I first assumed that it was coming from him.
But it wasn't.
The sound was too close.
The boy was still holding me back and laughing.
I pushed past him, through the kitchen, to the downstairs loo. There I found a small, red, crab finger puppet, wrapped in a baby wipe and jammed into the plug hole to stop the water from both taps, which were on full, from escaping.
I had reached it just in time to stop the water from overflowing the small cloakroom sink, which was currently full to the brim.
Needless to say we had words and the seriousness of what nearly happened was explained him. I think it went in, but you can never be sure with the boy.
Then I asked him why he'd done it?
He looked up at me, with his big, brown, soulful eyes and said in all innocence,
'I wanted to be like Paddington and flood the house.'
If you've not seen the film you'd better watch the trailer and then you'll see what he means.
Next Easter I'm buying him chocolate. It might cause mood swings, but at least it's cheaper than replacing everything in the house.
I could swing for that blooming bear.