Pirates and pools

We're still on the pirates.

"Any pirates going get me, mum-mum?" she asks in the darkened hallway of our New Orleans hotel – and – "No pirates get Uncle J on him bed," she tells me as I change the guest linens.

Turns out, while I've been busy assuring Berry that they don't exist anymore, pirates are very much alive. If we lived in South America or West Africa or Asia, she'd be right to worry.

Her fear of the water, though? Kirk was right – it took care of itself. I mean it really....


really....


really....


really took care of itself.

Yo-ho-ho (uh-oh)

There's a new twist in Berry's bedtime routine – one I never saw coming.

"Goodnight mum-mum. I love you mum-mum."

"Goodnight honey, I love you too. Have a good sleep."

"I love you. Them pirates no can get me?"

Pirates. Right.

"I no like-them pirates. They no get me."

Berry has just moved up to the three-to-five-year-old class at preschool and when I picked her up last Tuesday, her group was being 'covered' by another teacher who had them listening to an ocean adventure book-on-tape. What I heard of it sounded downright boring, actually – a bit too dreary for kids that age.

On the way home, though, Berry unravelled a story about "them scary mans" who "sing a growly song" and ever since then we've been on a fear-of-pirates kick.

This morning at breakfast: "You have a good sleep, mum-mum?"

"I had a good sleep sweetheart. Did you have a good sleep?"

"I did. None them pirates did get me."

"Honey, we have no pirates here. No pirates will ever get you."

She nodded sagely. "My daddy look after me. Get them pirates. He a big man."

So now you know. If you have a pirate problem, call my husband. He's a big man.

.