As you, dear reader, will know, a love affair started in this house around Christmas time. These charming little mice did bewitch all of our hearts, but for Pink the love was total. This is her on Christmas Day night, poorly and restless in Mummy & Daddy’s bed:
And so the love began. Mimi and Mustafa (named by Gangy (Granny) on a whim, and apparently unable to change it to anything else) have been constant night time bed companions, and constant day time play companions too. They smoosh happily in her bag to accompany her on the school runs. They have ousted the usual plastic residents of the Happyland play village. They are apparently very partial to a cheese sandwich for lunch (grated please).
So much so that when that bad bad lady at Armstrong Ward wrote to me about a new batch, the family simply had to be added to. A bigger boy mouse was received, pronounced ‘Daddy Mouse!’ and gladly welcomed into the Mousefold. Bedtimes changed a little – now we had three mini beds for Daddy, Mimi and N-nuffa (woe betide anyone else calling him anything other than Mustafa, mind). Mice had to be called to bed, kissed on the nose and tucked up before Pink would receive the same treatment…
But. Tragedy has befallen our little mouse trio. Sadness flows where once merriment lived.
Mustafa is missing.
At first, we thought ‘oh, he’ll turn up’. The first bed time was hard – the Mice family was sadly tucked in, and the empty bed stroked wistfully. Big, tired eyes gazed up, a small lip wobbled. “Where’s N-nuffa, Mummy?”
Glib promises were made that he was off on an adventure, that we would find him in the morning.
A second day went past, with a more thorough search. A second bedtime with a sad little empty bed made ready for the missing Mustafa Mouse.
A sad little hand slept clutching his blanket for another two nights.
Yesterday I noticed that Daddy mouse and Mimi mouse were lying carelessly on the bedroom floor. It seems that an incomplete mice family is too sad to play with. Bedtime last night there were no mice in the bed. Six o’ clock this morning I was woken by sad girl calling quietly for her N-nuffa.
We have overturned the toybox, we have rummaged down the back of the sofa, we have checked in the shoe box, we have peered, poked and prodded into every dark corner we can find.
Where oh where oh where is Mustafa?