Fallen angel

There was a whisper from the darkness: “Come in here.”

I walked into Zane’s room. Jas was standing by his cot in the gloom. “Look.” I stood by the cot and peered down at the boy. He was surrounded by the usual collection of teddies, monkeys and penguins. Aside from the fluffy characters, Zane always likes to take something incredibly un-cuddly to bed - something like a bus or a kitchen utensil. Tonight it was his favourite car book, but that was not what was unusual.

What was unusual was that he had a pair of his shorts on his head.

Many things that Zane did defied reason, but this had us miffed. Zane had seen fit to fetch a pair of little blue shorts wear them on the wrong end of his little torso, like a King’s crown or the head-dress of a red Indian, and then just gone to sleep.

He looked like an angel who had gone to a Funny Hat Party, drunk too much fairy punch and nodded off on the couch.

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