A Lesson from Easter Dinner By Jane Grieve

I am watching and listening, as a mother should, and not intervening, as a mother is wont to do, while my howling 3 year old son tries to extricate his finger from the beak of an irate duck.

The child is the family baby. The duck is a family pet. Once a placid creature of prehistoric gait and amiable disposition, she has been pushed too far one time too many.

Not having personally had my finger in a duck's mouth, I am wondering vaguely whether, unlike hens, ducks actually have teeth. I am also offering a silent prayer of thanks that it is the duck, and not the dog, who has finally snapped under the strain of constant infantile tormenting.

There are a few issues at play here. One is the law of cause and effect, which says that this child has to learn, despite my telling him time and time again, that there is a limit to the patience of a duck or any other creature, including human mothers. That I cannot always be there to protect him from his own folly.

Another is my calmness when my small child is under attack, considering the unknown factor of the teeth and other, unnamed possibilities which mothers are wont to think up to torment themselves with.

As well, while it may seem flippant it occurs to me that that bard really had his finger on the pulse when he wrote, "What's in a name?" Because the duck which has a gruesome grip on my boy's finger travels under the misnomer of Sweetie Pie; while her companion Mighty Duck looks on nervously, apparently overawed by such bold behaviour in a fellow duck.

A mere ten weeks ago, Sweetie Pie and Mighty Duck were delightful little balls of yellow fluff at the pet shop.

Full word count 640 words