Out of and into the mouth of toddlers

This morning, Cubling was "helping" me hang up bedlinen. She discovered the joy of a pillow case and pretended it was a sleeping bag. All good fun so far, although I was slightly worried about her dragging a freshly washed pillow case through the whole house. At least I had hoovered the day before I told myself. She put it to lots of creative uses, not just a sleeping bag, oh nonono. It also resembles a bin bag, and she showed me how she can throw lots of toys in there, into her Uelleimer (Muelleimer, German for bin). Then, out of the blue, she announced "mummy, when you are very very old and then you die, I'm going to throw you into a bin bag and put you in the Uelleimer."

Charming. I feel very loved by my girl today. Dead mummy corpse disposal sorted.

And proof that Cubling has discovered the concept of death. Which we have spoken about before a lot, but it was always clear that she had not really understood it (which we didn't expect anyhow) - Only a month ago I could tell her ten times that her Oma died and she would still ask "so where's Oma/your mummy?" It's rather disconcerting if it pops up out of the blue in such, hm, how can I say, functional and pragmatic terms of ... disposal.

Just to prove that Cubling is also rather charming here's our adventure from last weekend:
A colleague of mine has a brood of hens (and quails) which are freed free range - freed from the wretched existence of battery hens, because they no longer produce the required frequency of eggs. So they are now free to roam on an Ayrshire farm - if they aren't chased by little people that is. Cubling was excited to go and even more excited to find ... you wouldn't believe it ... EGGS! Carefully carefully she collected them and only broke one quail egg ("oh dear! Is broken!"). Guess what she's been demanding daily ever since: egg. Egg for breakfast, egg for dinner. Boiled egg, fried egg, scrambled egg. She'll have egg over chocolate, and that's saying something. I'm slightly worried she might turn into one. At least we've got some indication that going ahead with getting a couple of hens will be met with approval by Cubling, although she made it also rather clear that she prefers quails and bunnies because they're "cute" and "fluffy".

That's what an ex battery hen looks like. A bit short on the feather side of things, but rather ok about being handled.

Two hours later and Cubling finally dares to hold "my friendly" which is the name given to the hen by wee A. who was rather taken by Cubling (he ended up hopping on a trampoline baring his chest which I can only interpret of an attempt to impress my daughter. Kids start early in Ayrshire...)

And somehow I've got a feeling "my friendly" wouldn't be so friendly if she knew that within an hour of leaving her, her egg looked like this on Cubling's dinner plate. Nothing beats scrambled egg on toast for a quick, tasty and down to earth meal.