I have a stuffed toy rat named Wally. It was birthed in the factories of IKEA, I have had it since 2005 and I love it.
The morning after I came back from Singapore, I was waiting to take Ryan the nephew to play school. I spotted my rat in the living room, and took it upstairs. It’s mine, isn’t it?
Well, not according to the nephew! He saw me take Wally and WAILED. Apparently when I was away, the rat morphed to become his property. “Babyshu”, he claimed. Which means, baby’s ‘lau shu’, Chinese for rat.
I chatted with my sister and she told me that Ryan was lugging the rat around. “He loves it,” she said.
So yesterday I was minding Ryan for a bit, and I convinced him to return the rat to me. It was easy, actually — just force him to choose between cartoons or rat, milk or rat, going out or rat.
This morning while chatting with my sister:
Me: Hehehe I got my rat back!
Sis: Oh no wonder when I asked him where was the rat, he looked so sad.
Heheh. I don’t need the rat. It’s just funny to rile the kid up.