Wilson visits the tattoo studio

Without telling me, Wilson snuck out of the house and went up to the top of the high street to the Tattoo Parlour. On his return, he said that the tattoo artist was very nice, and gave him some tattoos without charging him. He then showed me a packet of Temporary Tattoos.

He seems very happy with these, and I'm hoping that his desire for a real tattoo has abated…

I asked W how he'd feel about a pet mouse. He countered with a request for a sheep, pointing out that "it would keep the grass short, and we could knit all our own clothes!"

Wilson changes his mind...

Over coffee this morning, Wilson told me, he'd changed his mind about the tattoo. I couldn't hide my relief and told him I was certain that he'd reached the right decision.

"I can see that the dragon was a silly idea," he continued, "which I would have regretted in the fulness of time. Instead, I'm going to have a pierced heart with the words 'MUM, Mrs Vermilingua' entwined around it. My heart sunk a little lower.

He went on to say, "And I don't want a dog. I don't think dogs like me. I was slightly chased by a dog once, and it barked at me. Dogs feel threatened by my superior intellect and climbing abilities. And my marketing skills, of course."

I found a load of pictures of donkeys and kangaroos magneted to the fridge door this morning. To save time I went straight to Wilson, who was watching me from his bed in the tumble-dryer, and said in my firmest voice: "No donkeys! No kangaroos! No goats, crocodiles, albatrosses, porcupines, rhinoceroses, zebras, okapis, hairy mammoths or gnus!"

"I don't want a crocodile!" he replied, implying that any of the alternatives would be very acceptable to him.

"You can have a puppy!" I blurted out. I was certain that this would be the ideal pet for W, and I expected him to embrace this idea enthusiastically… but he was strangely diffident. He looked at the floor and shuffled about a bit, not meeting my eyes. 

I am out-logiced. Again.

Wilson has just explained to me that the heroine of the 'Dragon Tattoo' novel, Lisbeth Salander, is cute, cool, punky and brave. "Nothing says 'cute, cool, punky and brave' like a tattoo" he continued.

"So you intend to have 'CUTE, COOL, PUNKY AND BRAVE' tattooed on your arm?" I asked, appalled.

"Obviously not", he replied, "That would be dumb. I'll have a dragon on my shoulder."

"It will be under your fur! No-one will be able to see it!" I countered.

"Then it need not concern you" he replied with, let's face it, unassailable logic. 

Breakfast in bed

Wilson prepared and served an ant-free breakfast and brought it to me in bed. Past experience suggested that he's after something or about to break some bad news; neither of these prospects cheers me, but I thanked him and tucked in. 

Halfway through my orange juice (actually I did find a couple of ants at the bottom of the glass) he asked me if I have any strong opinions about camels. I told him that yes I do: I have a strong opinion that they would be entirely unsuitable as pets. 

"Even if he slept outside?"

"Even if he never entered the house."

"An elephant?"

"The same."

"Even a baby elephant?"

"It would soon grow up into a two-ton monster that ate all your bananas." 

I don't think he'd thought of that -- W is very fond of a banana or two.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Last night Wilson finished The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (Kindle edition); this morning over breakfast he casually announced that he was thinking of getting a tattoo himself.

I have serious parental responsibility here. He's only four years old, and a tattoo is for life, not just for Xmas. Hang on, that's a dog -- I wonder if Wilson would like a dog?

A dog is a big responsibility, and a big financial commitment… but not as big as a pony. I'll suggest this tomorrow, when I put my foot down about the tattoo.

Pet discussions proceed...

I've explained to Wilson that, even with the income from his Adam Ant tribute album, we couldn't afford to keep a pony. He took this very well, considering. 

I suggested that as an alternative I'd have no objection to a kitten.

"A cat?" he scorned. "Pooh! Sly, squinty-eyed mammal-torturers. I spit on cats! Never! They climb up the curtains, you know!"

"You climb up the curtains!" I pointed out.

"Exactly!" he replied with a snort, crossing his arms as though this settled everything.

Ant Music

Wilson has rush-released his Adam Ant Tribute Album - he says he will use the profits to fund stabling, tack, feed, vet fees etc for Diesel the pony. 

I'm going to have to grasp the nettle and tell him he can't have a pony. Riding lessons maybe, but actually owning a horse is out of the question. 

On the bright side, though, that's another of W's New Year Resolutions ticked off. 

Wilson prepares for fame and fortune...

Wilson is, as he puts it, "well up" for a Studio Tour. However, I fear he might have read between the lines. When he visited Buckingham Palace he thought he was going to meet the Queen and be Knighted; now I think he might be expecting to be 'discovered' and made a film star. 

He even wants to have his pony before we go, so he can ride it round the studio in his 'outlaw duds'. I shall have to have a word with him before we go.

Wilson chooses his pet

I have a sense of foreboding as Wilson brings me a double espresso and the last slice of Xmas cake, sits me down and tells me he's decided what pet he wants. He wants a pony. 

Before I can say a word, he promises that he'll groom it, feed it, clean up after it and not let it put its hooves on the furniture. 

I fear this last means he thinks it would be living indoors with us. He's going to call it Diesel.

The Producers

Very nice letter from the producers of 'Moon', expressing their sorrow and deep concern for Wilson's suffering. 

They don't mention any cash compensation, but suggest that he might like to visit the studios as their guest. "Perhaps a look behind the scenes" they say, "would help Wilson appreciate the fantasy nature of film production, and help him see that the story was not 'real'.

We have struck a bargain!

Wilson and I were both sorry to see Becky leave Weatherfield in last night's Coronation Street. He said she was a lot like most of his half-sisters: pretty, irresponsible and promiscuous - she would have been "an ideal anteater!"

I can't see what harm could result in Wilson having a pet, so I tell him Yes. We have a bargain: he stops using the VISA card and I buy him a pet. The responsibility of caring for it will probably be good for him.

A walk in the woods?

Remembering the psychiatrist's advice that Wilson should "behave more like an anteater" and that we should "go out together" and "take more exercise", I suggested that we go for a nice walk in the woods; perhaps we could investigate some rotting logs for insects. 

W declined, saying that he was expecting a call from The Leveson Inquiry on Media Ethics. I raised my eyebrows in a questioning sort of way, and he explained that since Hugh Grant and Ian Hislop, even Ann Diamond and Charlotte Church, had already appeared it wouldn't be long before they called him...

Wilson considers legal action

Wilson thinks he should sue the producers of 'Moon' for damages in respect of his suffering and his ensuing medical treatment. I tell him that I'll write the letter, as I think he's too upset to do it at the moment. 

In the letter, I shall point out that W was very badly affected by the story, but I won't mention any legal action at this point; I'll just see what their response is.

Debriefing

I sat down with Wilson this morning with a nice cup of tea and a chocolate digestive and we discussed what the psychiatrist had said. 

W nodded his head sagely after each point… until we got to the bit about revoking his VISA privileges, when he accused me of making that bit up! 

Actually, I'm not keen on this either, since W does all the food shopping using my card, but the psychiatrist had been quite insistent.

After he calmed down and thought about it for a little while, he agreed to give up the VISA card… in return for being allowed to have a pet. 

I said I'd think about it. 

Every parent knows what this means!

The psychiatrist speaks

After the consultation the psychiatrist told me that Wilson is suffering from an idée fixe; in his case, a kind of 'reverse solipsism' -- a condition where the sufferer thinks everyone is real except himself.

He said that W was also experiencing 'expectation issues' with his mother, and (due to his very variable fathering experiences) boundary issues with me. He told me that I must set more rigid and appropriate boundaries, and revoke Wilson's VISA privileges. He also suggested that, notwithstanding his precocity and apparent maturity, W should not be allowed to watch any movies with higher than a U rating. Also, we should go out together, take more exercise and eat more ants. 

He also told me that I should try to persuade Wilson to behave more like an anteater. He's obviously not tried living with him! 

He said that Wilson would derive maximum benefit from Group Therapy… but unfortunately he doesn't have any other anteater patients to make up a group. 

Wilson's not going to like that bit about the VISA card!

Couch time...

Today we went to see the Animal Psychiatrist. Wilson went in to his consulting room without me (he looked very little and vulnerable) and told him all his inner fears and thoughts -- how he watched 'Moon' and how he now thinks he's not 'real' and all his friends, relatives, even me, are 'implanted memories'. Even how he thought he might be a figment of my imagination.

I may be prejudging, but I'd be surprised if Wilson doesn't have 'father issues'. What with having had so many fathers, each for so brief a time.

There's also the matter of his mother's high expectations of him, and how he promised her that he'd be a millionaire before his seventh birthday. 

These are great loads for a young anteater to carry; I hope I can bring more stability into his life…

A second opinion

We've just seen the new vet, who says that she thinks Wilson is experiencing some sort of fixation and recommended a 'talking therapy'. 

She has referred Wilson to a psychiatrist colleague of hers, but warned me that the insurance company might be quite surprised to receive a claim for psychiatric treatment of an anteater. 

When we got outside, W confided that instead of a talking therapy he'd prefer a 'cuddling therapy' as he thought this vet was 'really hot!' 

Thinking I'd be wasting my time if I explained about therapist transference, I just said that doctors were strictly forbidden from dating their patients by their Hippocratic Oath. I can tell he's still down as he didn't even make a joke about hippos.

Emergency visit to the vet...

Realising Wilson might be heading towards an existential crisis, I bundled him into the car and drove him to the vet, who saw him immediately as an emergency case.

After taking a look at him and chatting with him for a few minutes, she told me that there was nothing physically wrong with Wilson, but recommended me to take him to see a colleague of hers who specialised in 'this sort of thing'. 

After we left, W told me that the vet was very kind and reminded him of his mum, Mrs Vermilingua. Perhaps he's just missing his mother.

On arriving home I checked my email and found I'd received a receipt from iTunes for the collected works of Søren Kierkegaard and for Jean-Paul Sartre's 'Being and Nothingness', Kindle edition.

Wilson's crisis draws near...

This morning I went downstairs and found several memos from Wilson magneted to the fridge door. Later, I received a receipt from iTunes for The Complete Works of Philip K Dick, Kindle edition. 

I think that W, following watching the movie 'Moon', is slipping into a reality crisis… and I don't know what to do for the best…