Tonight, as Pasfollette is about to clamber upstairs, I notice a small bump in her clothes.
-"Hang on, what have you got in your pocket?
- Hi hi hi hi hi!"
Please don't let it be alive, I quietly pray.
- "Well? What is it?"
More giggles. There's NO WAY I'm putting my hand in that pocket now.
Finally, she answers. Well, sort of.
- "A wok.
- A what?
- A WOK!"
I look at the tiny pocket on the side of her dungarees. A wok??????
- "Alright then, take it out."
She carefully pulls the wok out of her pocket and sets it down on a nearby desk.
- "That's the mommy wok. I've got a baby wok too!"
She pulls out a much smaller wok and places it next to the big one.
-"Any more in there? No? Then go upstairs now and brush your teeth and get into your pyjamas. I'll be up in a minute to read you a story."
She starts walking up the stairs, then suddenly rushes down to the woks and whispers:
"'Night 'night, wokies. This is your new home."
[Toutes mes excuses aux francophones, les anglos vous confirmeront que c'était intraduisible comme histoire...]