Mum’s the word: Does Jesus wear PJs?

OPINION: The door opens slowly and Miss Six stands there looking forlorn, pillow trailing bumpily behind her.

It is about 2.30am and this apparition in pyjamas has appeared seeking solace from a dream about cats who want to eat her toes.

She jumps into bed and squishes down next to me, a foot whacking me hard in the shins. A period of much wriggling and squiggling follows while her little highness gets comfortable. She adjusts her pillow and I’m promptly smacked in the nose by a small hand.

‘‘Sorry,’’ she says as she turns to face me. My personal space has not so much been invaded as destroyed. Little puffs of breath brush up against my face.

‘Could you move over please?’’

There’s a slight wiggle and I’m granted around 3 millimetres of extra space. All goes silent for a few seconds and I try to nod off again.

‘‘Mum?’’

‘‘Yeeess?’’

‘‘Does Jesus wear pyjamas?’’ I ponder the many dodgy routes this conversation could take and decide I’m too tired for a theology discussion.

‘‘Yes.’’

‘‘Oh.’’ Again there is silence but it feels more ominous this time.

‘‘Does he get them at The Warehouse?’’ I feign sleep but it’s no use and Miss Six starts hissing in my face in what I think is supposed to be a whisper. It is not.

‘‘Does Jesus get his jammies at The Warehouse?’’

‘‘No, I don’t think so.’’ Again silence falls but I can practically hear Miss Six’s brain whirring.

‘‘Does he use magic to get them?’’ she asks. She would have been a real asset in the Spanish Inquisition.

‘‘Yes, yes he does.’’ I close my eyes. Miss Six’s breathing slows down and I allow myself a small smile of smugness. Crisis averted.

I am just at that lovely stage of almost sleep, ready to be tipped over into slumber when Miss Six pipes up again.

‘‘Are you sure the cats won’t eat my toes?’’

SUPPLIED When Miss Six has something on her mind, sleep is not on the agenda.