Re: Adventures Involving Bunny Poo

Bandit Heeler

Brisbane

Queensland

Australia

Dear Bandit,

I really enjoyed reading your letter about playing Pirates in the park. Even though having kids does give us the excuse we've been longing for to make an arse of ourselves in public, it can be hard. Well done for being an awesome blue whale.

I found myself at the park with Littles on the way home from nursery. She was content to play with a boy who used to go to her nursery, but is now at school, so I got to sit on a bench and relax for a bit.

Unfortunately she had something of a mini-fall-out that was a little bit my fault. The boy went to the toilet, and Littles came to me complaining that she had no one to play with, and I made the mistake of suggesting that she played with another friend I had spotted nearby. She fell into a state of deep contemplation, considering carefully whether it was worth the small spark of courage that would be needed. The first friend returned, and Littles informed him bluntly, "I actually want to play with my other friend now." 

The first friend said, in a slightly hurt tone, "fine, you can go play with who you like" and made a carefully non-contact pusing-away gesture.

That was too much for Littles who ran off to sit on a fence and have a cry. I went to talk to her, and tried to explain to her that she and her friend had hurt each other's feelings, even though neither of them meant to. 

"Yeah, but he hurt my feelings THIS much," she insisted, holding her arms as wide apart as she could. 

It's always a tough decision for us, isn't it, Bandit? To what extent, if at all, do we interfere in the politics of our kids? I decided my best move was to take a step back, so I returned to the bench. Soon, her bemused friend had borrowed a multicoloured bunny from his little sister, and had started idly bouncing it on my arm. That gave me an idea. If I castigated the bunny hilariously enough, perhaps all would be well. 

"Are you jumping on me? How dare you! You bad, naughty bunny! This is not acceptable rabbit behaviour!"

Littles had come closer and was now doing that thing where she's trying desperately not to laugh, because she was too busy crying. But when the rabbit started pooing on me, I knew I had won.

"Rabbit rapscallion! Badly behaved bunny! Horrible hare! This is an outrage! In my day, rabbits had respect!" Etc, etc.

Soon, Littles and her friend were staggering around with laughter. Their conflict was forgotten. They were united in the common goal of pretending that a toy rabbit was defecating on me.

However, my brilliant strategy had an unexpected consequence. The more flamboyantly I went full John Cleese on the errant rabbit, the larger a crowd of mini-monsters was drawn to me. It was like opening a poke of chips at the beach! Suddenly the rabbit was being passed around the group of children, who were taking it in turns to hold it over me and mime the shameful act, complete with sound effects! I had stumbled into a trap with which I know you are familiar, Bandit. I was in a play situation I had no idea how to get myself out of!

At one point a boy I had never seen before bounced in front of me with explosive enthusiasm, crying, "He's pooing on your face and in your mouth and on your belly and on your balls!"

Bandit, I do try to be easy-going, but that, for me, was a step too far.

Give my love to Chilli and the girls,

All the best,

Alastair