This morning, Squiggle is getting dressed.
She cannot find the required clothes in her neatly arranged drawers and I wonder why not.
She opens her little suitcase, which is stashed in the bottom of her wardrobe. It’s full to bursting. The clothes, previously squashed into her drawers have merely been transplanted, fully squashed, to the suitcase stashed at the bottom of her wardrobe.
“What’s going on with all this?” I ask, “I thought you tidied.”
“I got bored…” she shrugs.
She’s her mother’s daughter after all.