My five year old niece dropped by this afternoon on her way to the zoo. Her 6th birthday was mentioned (now just a matter of 8 months away - a concept not fully grasped by the five year old mind) and she asked me what my favourite animal is, a leading question if ever there was one, designed purely to allow her to jump in straightaway with the information that she loves ponies and would like one at the earliest opportunity. Or failing that a donkey. I missed the chance to tell her about the time her Auntie Big Sis (that name really doesn't work, but I'm only allowed to refer to Big Sis as Big Sis on this blog - she's worried about stalkers after her yoghurt covered pretzels) was kicked by a donkey, and that according to Lisa they're all old and dusty (and possibly hooded) anyway, and instead replied with a philanthropic "You'll be lucky".

The conversation moved on to my spare bed, which my niece was disappointed to hear that I never sleep in. I told her it's for other people to use when they come and stay. She said "Does Lisa sleep in it?". I said "She used to". Fortunately the conversation was dropped there.

My niece then decided we really ought to name the cuddly pig sent to me by my Big Sis, which declares "Oink From Texas" across its tummy (an appropriate slogan if you've ever seen the average Texan). I left it to her, and having confirmed "It's a boy pig isn't it?", she thought for a moment, then came up with the infinitely masculine name of 'Piggy Snog-Snog'. Which elicited another Lisa-related comment from my mother in the doorway. Honestly, if it's not sleeping arrangements it's snogging with my family. They should be ashamed of themselves.