Oh look, it’s my favourite time of day…no, not wine o’clock (this part of the day does go well with wine though!). No, it’s hunt the fucking unicorn time.
You see my 4 year old has a favourite toy. Don’t get me wrong, she has around seventy billion soft toys. I know this because every single night of my life I have to look through the seventy billion soft toys to find the fucking unicorn. Now many soft toys barely move from week to week, but fucking unicorn is special. I suspect fucking unicorn is in some way affiliated with Harry Potter and the Hogwarts crew due to its apparent abilities in the skills of transfiguration, and the fact that it obviously owns a twatting invisibility cloak.
Obviously, every night I forget the trauma of the previous night until I have the twins fast asleep, then put the four year old down. “Unicorn was definitely on my bed” she sobs at 6 million decibels as I frantically promise anything in the world if she will just shut up and not waken the twins. Cue the great creep in the dark through rooms using only the light of my phone.
Crunching my painful way over Lego bricks and mega blocks in the near dark, I come across the usual suspects. Eyeore, fuzzy cat and scary bear are never missing. Blue nose usually turns up next closely followed by the Macca Pacca with no off switch (“Macca Pacca Moo” or some similar shite it giggles as I accidentally kick it across a room). Saggy bits, Foxy Loxy, baby fox, raggy tag and stinky rabbit are always easy to find, but none of them will do. It has to be the shape shifting master of disguise, fucking unicorn. Tonight’s little jaunt was a mere 30 minutes (followed obviously by a further 30 minutes re-settling the twins). Tonight’s hiding place was in her brothers bedroom hidden under his school clothes amidst the mass of Lego, of which I suspect I have stepped on every block in my bare feet.