Out of the Mouths of Babes

When I look at my children, the love I feel is often accompanied with a swell of pride and a cloud of wonder. How did Cecile and I produce such amazing little people?

Beverley is cleverer than she chooses to show, yet I have seen her occasionally reveal insights far beyond her years. I can see aspects of Cecile in her nature  She has begun to present a mature outlook on life, but this is peppered with the wild abandon of a little girl and a wicked sense of humour that can be hilarious. She tempers this when lightly teasing her brother, and the affection she feels for him is always close to the surface.

Brendan, eighteen months younger, takes the comments from his sister with good humour. He instinctively extracts any useful information therein, rejecting the rest, knowing Beverley will always be there for him. On the few times Beverley gets carried away, Brendan somehow is able to craft a short, appropriate retort that cuts through everything and leaves them both in peals of laughter. Sometimes they'll decide to work together on a project, bringing their individual skills together; watching them is one of life's pleasures. It is beautiful to see that relationship and being aware their closeness will continue throughout their lives... well, it is comforting.

Our son is imaginative, and some of the play stories he enacts with his best friend Lucky Snow-Warren can be complex in their narrative. I occasionally find myself watching them in their role play when I should be working, it's so entertaining.

I used to have a slight worry that he wouldn't stick with a task for too long, especially when something else attracted his attention. Cecile remarked that it showed he has an active mind and pointed out a flexibility that allows him to return to an earlier task and continue from where he broke off. Seeing this, I was amazed what an adept and complex little boy I had. Another aspect of his nature, highlighted recently, was his sensitivity and empathy for others. Following the Telly Party incident of a few months ago, we have noticed him adopt a subtle protectiveness towards his cousin Biddie. He's full of surprises too. I didn't expect him to take so much from his recent attendance at Kittie Camp; forming new friendships was a bonus.

And then there's our titchy Russell. So affectionate - he loves his cuddles. A happier child I've never known. Content to sit and play with a toy for hours on end, he will chatter away to himself - no proper words as yet, but we're not worried; it's lovely to see. I've discussed this with Cecile and Eliza, who spend a lot of time with my tiny boy, but neither are concerned; Cecile says that she was told she didn't speak much until she was three, and she's made up for it since! We've all seen him at nursery, and he makes jolly little noises when he's with the other tinies. And when he's with his cousin Nugget, they both jabber away like there's no tomorrow. Cute!

It occurs to me you don't know how Nugget fits into our family, so I'll briefly explain. We call him a cousin but he's not a blood relation. His mum Athalia is sister to my brother Newton's wife Audrey, and the two families live in different wings of Newton's modern house. As Nugget and Russell are virtually the same age, they have spent quite a lot of time together. Hearing them playing, it often seems they are having proper conversations! About what, I have no idea...

o 0 O 0 o

Only a couple of weeks ago I had been at Newton's place, chatting to Athalia and watching our tiny ones play. When it came time to leave, a door to Newton's home office opened and he came through.

"Hello Newt," I said, "I didn't know you were at home. How's things?"

He blinked, noticing me for the first time. "Oh, hi Jackson. Sorry. I was miles away."

This was nothing new. I suppose the word "boffin" was meant for him. Years ago he started off teaching advanced classes at the school - he was known as The Professor - but it was clear that couldn't last forever. When his expertise was sought elsewhere in Sylvania, the rewards and resources he was offered were too much of a temptation. He still visited Mellowdene periodically, but for a few years he wasn't that visible. He never spoke about his work, but I had the impression that he was a valued member of a think tank, developing secret items for the benefit of Sylvania.

When he met the Bonny twins - Audrey and Athalia - things began to change. It was clear he was attracted to Audrey, and his time in Mellowdene increased. We were not surprised when they announced their marriage engagement. The interest increased when Athalia also announced her engagement - this to one Trafalgar Cornflower, and a double wedding followed a few months later. Newton moved back to Mellowdene and did more of his work from home - a new house paid for partly by his employers - but he still needed to travel away from time to time.

I believe Mellowdene is seeing some benefit from Newton's work. In a consultancy role he met with Ashley Maces, and some of the recycling technology used by Mice & Clean improved their waste management. Newton also meets up with the village council from time to time, although he doesn't discuss his reasons. In any case, it's good to see my brother more often following his time spent away.

Maybe because they are twins, Audrey and Athalia are still incredibly close, and it wasn't a surprise when Newton agreed that the house should accommodate both families. That closeness continued when the sisters gave birth within a week of each other - my nieces Donna and Dinah continued the Bonny tradition of twins, and Nugget was Athalia and Trafalgar's baby boy. I happened to remark on Nugget to my brother.

"Busy with your work I expect," I said. "I've just been watching Nugget and our Russell play. We were remarking how funny it was that they seem to be having a conversation."

"Hmm? Oh, maybe they are," said Newton.

"How do you mean?"

"Communication develops from need. Maybe they developed their own language."

"Is that really possible?"

"Oh yes, it's possible. I suppose if I recorded them, fed the audio into a digital converter, customised my Worthville pattern-matching software and tied this in with results from facial analysis using another package, we could have a good stab at finding out what they were talking about. Given enough data."

I didn't even try to understand the technicalities. I just heard "record them" and "finding out what they were talking about" and nodded.

"No time to do that, though," Newton mused. "Speaking of which, I can't stop. Just taking a bathroom break."

He flashed a quick smile then disappeared out of the room. I watched the door swing in his wake and pondered Newton's words. Was he serious? Or was I victim of his dry sense of humour?

Russell tugged at my paw. He said something like "Gawa gagala" which I took to mean he wanted to go home. Maybe Newton's fancy technology wasn't necessary...

o 0 O 0 o

A few days after my brief meet up with my brother I came across a small pile of photographs on the table.

The pictures looked like they'd been taken by Newton's fancy camera, and all featured Russell and Nugget. Accompanying each photo was a small slip of paper bearing typewritten words. I was intrigued, and started to read through them.

Nugget: Kikki pupu lala.
Russell: A mimmy mimmy pubba.

- The clouds are purple in the laundry.
- And the silver lining is tarnished.

Nugget: Wah gigoh.
Russell: awawa neeek. Nana nyig kee?

- Greetings Agent Russ.
- Well met Agent Nug. Isn't it time we changed our passwords?

Nugget: Bluh bluh bluhbluh.
Russell: amma neeeek.

- Perhaps, but there is more pressing business.
- Do tell, Agent Nug.

Nugget: Egga diggi.
Russell: Oo gaga?

- It relates to Big Daddy.
- Yours or mine?

Nugget: Migga gigoh. Agga gugguddy.
Russell: Bluggle?

- Mine, Agent Russ. He returned from the docks with a package.
- Was this unexpected?

Nugget: Iggy, ooka gaga galoo kawah.
Russell: Aaga gullagulla agalee? Laga wiggi?

- Yes, however my contacts have told me the Sea Dog has given him contraband.
- Agents Donut and Dinner are on the case? Are they sure of their facts?

Nugget: Ag gagga waba - e gohgoh
Russell: Aarr.

- They are, Agent Russ. As much as it pains me, it appears Big Daddy is involved in... well, you know the technical term since it is your area of expertise.
- I see. Piracy.


As I came to the last photograph, Beverley and Brendan entered the room. They saw the photographs spread out before me and they looked at each other and giggled.

"Anything interesting, daddy?" asked Beverley, her eyes wide and twinkling.

Finding a final sheet of paper, all became clear.

Starring

Russell Butterglove as Agent Russ

Nugget Cornflower as Agent Nug

Photographs: Beverley Butterglove

Story: Brendan Butterglove

Editor: Beverley Butterglove

Project Manager: Brendan Butterglove

Concept: GreyRabbit

Thanks for the loan of

Instant Camera: Newton Butterglove

Typewriter: Darcy Fielding

I looked at my amazing children. Laughing, they ran to my side.

"We heard you talking to mummy," said Brendan, "so I thought we should do a project. I took notes while Beverley took photos".

Beverley clarified. "Auntie Audrey lent us Uncle Newt's camera, and I thought it would be good to use a typewriter. You were using yours, but I knew Mr Fielding had one. We told him what we were planning he had a good laugh."

"I bet he did." I hugged them both. "Pirates. I might have known."

Brendan and Beverley were as one voice. "Arrr!"

o 0 O 0 o

Kittie Camp

Arriving home unaccompanied after Rowan, Denzel and I had spent an afternoon with our daughters, I found Cecile on the coral sofa, a book by her side. She seemed happier than when Beverley and I had left her earlier in the day.

"Hello, lovebud," she smiled, "how was your Daddy Daughter Day? Is Beverley not with you?"

"We had a nice time," I replied. "She's at Denzel's and she'll be back soon; Lena wanted her to see the quads. But what about you?"

"What?" she said, dropping her gaze but maintaining an amused expression.

"From your happy face I'm guessing Brendan's back from Kittie Camp."

"He is. He's having a bath."

It had been the first time Brendan had spent nights away from his family, and Cecile had missed her little boy throughout the period. This had been particularly obvious when we had our breakfasts and evening meals and her reaction to laying out the table place settings. My lovely wife has been close to tears on one occasion.

I settled down next to her, kissing her cheek. "And he's alright, isn't he?"

"Yes. I know I've been silly..."

"No, my love. He's our little man and of course you care for him."

"You're being lovely, but I know what I've been like. I suppose it didn't help that Brendan didn't really want to go when he found Lucky wasn't going. I didn't like the idea of him being sad when he left."

"And now?"

"He enjoyed himself. He started to tell me all about it, but I had to interrupt him as he was absolutely filthy and stank to the high stars! He'd obviously fallen into something smelly. I sent him up to get clean."

I sniffed. There was a faint memory of his passage through the room.

"No doubt we'll get the full story when he re-emerges - in his role as Mink the Muckyless, do you think?" I commented, bathing in Cecile's happiness. "Come here and let me give you a cuddle."

We shared hugs a while, and when the sound of movement upstairs was supplemented with a front door click signifying the return of Beverley, we prepared for the family reunion. (Oh, in case anyone was wondering, Russell was asleep in his bed. He's always tired after spending time with his cousin Nugget.)

o 0 O 0 o

I realise some people won't know about Kittie Camp, so some background information will be useful. It's a comparatively recent event organised by a contingent of hill cats, and an opportunity for groups of Mellowdene youngsters to meet up and have fun learning new skills. They do this for four groups spread over the month so that numbers aren't too high at each meet.

These summer camps are located just outside Mellowdene County heading northeast, but before one would reach the hill cat community. One of the canal boats drops off the youngsters close to a small secluded valley in the foothills.

As I understand it, there's a shallow pond there for supervised swimming, and it's sheltered enough for camping. Having said that, a couple of years ago the Waters family were engaged to build a log cabin there as a more permanent base of operations. Helps cope with poor weather too, I guess.

It's pleasing how the feline quota has increased in Mellowdene as they are lovely people. For a long time it seemed that cats didn't want to live here. I remember reports of Cecile's great grandfather not really trusting them, which was totally unwarranted. I know historically cats are considered independent, and it seemed grandpappy Ivory misinterpreted this. It made sense that they didn't need to settle in our village when they effectively had their own small village in the foothills. The canals allowed trade, and that was how things remained until a dozen or so years ago.

My sister-in-law Eliza had good connections with the canal cats as she worked in Rocky Babblebrook's store. A couple of cats from the Harvey family used to tag along on these trips and they became good friends. It was a pleasant surprise when they decided to move to Mellowdene, bringing their entire family along. Bert Harvey and his wife started to work for Rocky too. So the Harveys were the first cats to settle here. Their relations, the Fishers, came a few years later. And we now have a family of Persian cats here who look after a number of small kittens. Maybe the hill cat village has insufficient space? Whatever the reason, the cats living in Mellowdene have resulted in stronger ties with the hill cats.

One theory is that the Kittie Camp - or Pussyfoot Scout Camp, to give it its proper name - was set up for the benefit of the young cats brought up in Mellowdene, ensuring that they are aware of their heritage. The reason doesn't really matter, since it wasn't long before the intake of the summer camps was extended so that it was available to rabbits, squirrels, beavers and any other young crittizens that lived here and were of suitable age.

When Brendan and his pals became eligible, they were excited at the prospect. Both Lucky Snow-Warren and Coco Chocolate were looking forward to going with our boy. We later discovered that Lucky couldn't go because he was going away on holiday with his family. Coco was assigned a different week - apparently the organisers want a wide range of critters at these meets and didn't want any particular race to predominate. Given Brendan's original excitement, we thought his subsequent disappointment wasn't a good enough reason for him to back out - and although Cecile was tempted to allow this, she relented.

With Brendan's joyous return, Cecile was happy she'd made the right choice. We now awaited our boy's account of his stay at Kittie Camp. Even Beverley was curious.

o 0 O 0 o

We were sitting around the dining table when Brendan made an appearance, clad in a towelling robe.

"No," explained Brendan when he had taken a seat and the subject of his pongy adventures were raised, "I slipped in some stinky mud when I left the canal on the way home. I didn't do it at Kittie Camp."

I expected some retort from Beverley but she was still revelling in her own memories of the day, culminating in ice cream and a visit to see her four cute baby cousins. I doubted her restraint would continue much longer.

"I'll tell you what I did do there; I caught three fishes!" Brendan exclaimed, delighted to hold centre stage with a list of his exploits. Beverley moved some peas around her plate with her knife, smiling at her brother's joy, gently shaking her head as he continued. "We had a special net and I used that to catch two of them. I tickled the third until Hughie scooped it out."

Hughie is Rickie Grunt's son, and a new acquaintance for Brendan since they were in different classes at school. I gathered they had got on very well and - together with Nollie Persis - they had formed a little trio of friends that, I suspected, was likely to continue long beyond the conclusion of Kittie Camp. Brendan wanted to invite Hughie for tea next weekend.

Beverley squashed a pea. "How did you tickle the fish? And why, come to think of it?"

"I can show you," said Brendan, wiggling his fingers at her. "And it's just a different ten kick we were shown."

"Don't bother," said Beverley, "And I think you'll find the word is 'technique', not 'ten kick'."

"Suit yourself," said Brendan, sticking out his tongue.

Cecile interrupted the exchange. "Tongue back in mouth, please. What else did you do apart from fishing?"

"We did some climbing. Nollie was really good at that."

"You were careful?"

"Aw, Mum. 'Course we were. The instructors showed us. We used ropes and everything."

"Fancy that," I said.

"It was good," nodded Brendan, and his eyes widened as another memory popped into his head. "And there was some caves."

"Were some caves," corrected Beverley, her eyes rolling.

"That's what I said."

Thoughts of Rowan's tales of magic tunnels came to my mind. "You didn't go too deep into them did you? You can get lost if you're not careful."

Cecile regarded me quizzically. I mouthed to her, "I'll tell you later," as Brendan responded to my remark.

"The caves were only little, Dad. But they had some swirly patterns from different kinds of rock. They were neat."

"Glad to hear it," said Cecile. "Perhaps you can make your room neat tomorrow."

"Huh?" said Brendan, not realising the connection with his tale.

"Never mind," I smiled, "Go on, son."

"The best was the hunt."

Cecile's eyes widened with concern but I forestalled her by speaking first. "What sort of hunt?"

"Well," Brendan explained, "Over the first two days Mr Keats had been showing us different ten ki... 'techniques' ...to track and trail things. On the last day we had to follow tracks and stuff to find clues and stuff. Then we used them to hunt Mr Sandy.

"We had to work together to find him, but he kept moving. It was great. Hughie and me found him first."

"Hide and seek?" asked Beverley, sweetly.

"No! Well, a bit. But better. You had to use your head," he said, tapping his forehead.

I caught Beverley's eye and gave her a stare as a friendly warning to prevent further teasing.

She chuckled. "That sounds great, Brendan. I'm glad you had a good time."

Brendan beamed. "It was great, sis. I wish you could've seen us."

"I'm sure I will," she smiled in return, "I'm guessing you'll be using your ten kicks in your games."

Our son frowned at her, momentarily confused before laughing. Cecile reached under the table and squeezed my hand.

In the corner, Russell watched the exchanges between his family, then giggled.

Life is good.

o 0 O 0 o