Mousey, my friend

And to think that we'd been trying to capture Sonny's attention, throwing in bright voice tones, cheery patter and exaggerated smiles.

Now he's finally showing an interest in communicating - only it's to a small furry rodent.

It's dispiriting, really, to see him making weird gooey sounds while his eyes are directed at the creature - no larger than his head - perched by him. Little else, certainly not his parents, has held Sonny's attention for such stretches of time these last couple of days.

A few soft toys were among the congratulatory gifts we received from assorted friends and relatives. And one of them was our present bane, black and white of face, with yellow booties and white blobs for hands. It doesn't even have proper eyes, just elongated black holes that are positively ghoulish.

We know, we know. In years to come, when we have to really worry about the sort of company our child might keep, and what sort of axe murderers might pass for his friends, we would find a cuddlesome mouse as innocuous a pal as could be imagined. And surely, you say, we wouldn't be small-minded enough to feel jealousy towards a toy?

But then, you can't see Sonny gibber at his mousey friend, communing with toyland while not deigning to give us the time of day (except at mealtime, but that's a different kettle of fish). Its saving grace is that it can at times hold tears at abeyance, purchasing us extra minutes of recuperation.

That, at least, almost puts us in its debt.