Another day, another sleepover.
I woke this morning and wondered, Whose child have I got? I couldn't recall. We have people in and out on a rota.
Is it the graceful, stick-thin horse girl with the delicate, fragile features? Get on the wrong side of her and, like a sword-fighter, she'll chop up your mind and expose the dismembered bits to her forensic gaze until you're blubbing for mercy and miserably agreeing that you demonstrated a complete ignorance and a total lack of rigour in your off-the-cuff remark about wombats.
Or is it Tigger, the force of nature who bursts into this house, bouncing off the walls, ceiling and floor because it's all! so! exciting! and DID YOU KNOW?! Soon it's CHRISTMAS! and there are REINDEERS! and there will be a tree! and lights! FLASHING! and it is all so TASTEFUL!
Then I remembered. It is Fizzy.
Planet Earth, know this. You are visited by a unique energy in Fizzy. Fizzy understands you, Planet Earth. She listens. Or she would, if your rocks could stop chirruping for a few moments and talk to her in a sensible manner. Fizzy is intuitively in touch with rocks. And earth, water, trees, sky, plus all animals. She listens to the complaints, knowledges, and endeavours of them all, engaging in discussion equally on the creaky knee joints of elders, and the wisdoms of deer.
After five minutes with Fizzy, she blurs into one great surge in my head. Sparrows are energising, as are force-fields. Sky can pulsate but that is okay because badgers send you messages by snorting.
She may actually be from Planet B897-Minor, put here on earth to confuse your expectations of normal.
But no. By afternoon, I know she is normal, because together with my own adorable offspring she can still trash a bedroom in the time-honoured sleepover manner.