"Okay," says he. "Can I take your clock so that I know what time it is when I wake up?"
"Sure you can," says I.
So he creeps into our room this morning and thrusts the alarm clock at my bleary face, hissing "Mummy! Can I watch the computer now?"
Gradually, my eyes slide into focus, just enough to make out that it's apparently 9:20, so I say "Good lad." And "Yes, you can."
Man-cub heads back to his own room looking rather pleased with himself, but unfortunately, I'm still tired and barely functioning, and I fail to wonder why.
"Huh?" Hubby grunts, slowly stirring at his side of the pit. "What time did you say it was?"
"Oh, blast!*" Hubby cries, leaping from the bed as if he's been bitten on the bottom by a sharp stingy thing. "What a confounded convenience this is!*" (*Or words to that effect! ) "I was supposed to be at work by now."
He grabs his phone and heads for the bathroom at a brisk, if unsteady, canter. Suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks and stares down at his phone. "It's 7:10," he mutters.
"7:10?" No wonder the birds are still so quiet out there.
To cut a long story short, our cunning man-cub has learned to manipulate time - if only the hands of my old alarm clock.
The little monster! I still don't know whether I should be proud or cross!