First ants of 2012

Weeding in the garden today I came across an ants' nest – the first ants of the year! Wilson was delighted and proceeded to eat them all, before falling asleep in the sun. 

He slept for some time, snoring peacefully, then awoke suddenly while I happened to be looking at him.

'What?!' he asked, indignantly, 'What?! Eating ants isn't easy, you know – they keep running away!'

Wilson finally writes to his mother

Wilson has finally written to his mum, Mrs Vermilingua, telling her all his news and asking about the date of his birthday. 

Birthday enquiries

This morning I asked Wilson about the date of his birthday. He in turn asked me what a birthday is and what happens on a birthday, so I explained about birthday cake and presents. He considered this for about half a second then told me it was his birthday 'tomorrow!' 

I thought this was a bit of a coincidence, and after I pointed out that there really wasn't time to organise any presents or cake by tomorrow he confessed that he had no idea when his birthday really was. I suggested he write to his mum, Mrs Vermilingua, to check the date. 

The Missing Birthday

Watching tv last night, we saw something about the Eurovision Song Contest. Wilson remarked that he was looking forward to seeing this again and how he'd need a new pack of coloured pens for his scoring sheet. 

This made me realise that he had been living with me for about a year… and he hadn't celebrated a birthday!

Open Day preparations

Wilson plans to open our garden to the public this summer, to raise funds for the Sloth Orphanage. Obviously, this involves W doing a lot of supervising, and me doing a lot of double-digging. And weeding.

When I get to a bit W thinks I can be safely trusted to get on with, he sits down in the conservatory with the iPad, occasionally glancing up just to keep an eye on me.

'What are you doing in there?' I asked him, gasping for breath from the digging.

'The posters and tickets won't design themselves you know!' he replied. 

In the Spring a Young Anteater's Fancy Lightly Turns to...

Wilson had a bit of a hangover yesterday, and was dismayed that he'd actually told me That Joke!

Today, though, is another day. The sun is shining brightly and in the words W's famous poet ancestor, apparently, 'In the Spring a Young Anteater's Fancy Lightly Turns to Thoughts of Going to the Garden Centre.'

'That' joke

Wilson and I got a bit drunk last night on Ant Wine, and after a little cajoling he eventually told me the Very Rude Ant Joke. This is it:

An anteater goes into a bar and asks for a drink. The barman asks, 'What would you like ­­— a beer?'

The anteater replies, 'Noooooo.'

'A glass of wine perhaps?'

The anteater replies, 'Noooooo.'

'How about a vodka and ant juice then"

The anteater replies, 'Noooooo.'

Finally the barman gives up, asking, 'Why the long "No"s?'

I told Wilson that wasn't in the least rude. He replied, 'Anteaters are very sensitive about the length of their noses.'