The last thing, on the way to bed. I quietly push the door open and slide into the gloomy bedroom. After a moment my eyes adjust and I find the little one curled up snoozing soundly.
It’s only when I sigh and melt into my own bed that I realise I sneaked right past my dreaming children to check on the hamster.
The hamster – named Batman for reasons best known to Boy Two – has been in residence for a day and a half so far. Already I’ve experienced levels of anxiety far higher than I remember when the brand new Boys had been home 36 hours.
It’s so flipping small and fragile – how can we possibly keep it alive?
We already had a heart-stopping few moments when Batman revealed s/he wasn’t on the same page as us on the issue of calmly returning to the cage.
What if it’s too cold? Does it like grapes? Is that bedding comfy enough? Blimey.
Sure we’ll all get the hang of it soon. Fingers crossed.
You are right to be concerned. Our first hamster, from PAH, died in his sleep in his third day with us. I returned the stiff little body to PAH and they replaced him with a not-quite-identical one and said 'They do that sometimes'.
No, I didn't tell the kids.