It’s a mini pilot’s hat that we bought while living in the States.
He’s never really shown much interest in it until now and had only worn it once before, when we went trick-or-treating in the US.
But this summer he became so attached to it, he’d hang it on his bed post and, every time he got up in the middle of the night, would actually remember to put it on.
His hair underneath has even moulded semi-permanently to the shape of the hat and now forms a quiff at the front that I think looks quite cool, though DH isn’t so sure.
Since he’s never become attached to an object before, I did wonder if it was because he was missing his Dad during our five-week sojourn. How sweet, I thought, imagining it was a link to DH, whose busy flying schedule meant he was working out of Dubai for most of the summer.
But then we found out the real reason.
“Yes,” he replied adamantly. “There are birds in Dubai too.”
“Yes, I don’t want them to poo on my head,” he said, almost shuddering at the thought.
Turns out that, despite laughing at his brother at the time, he’d been quite disturbed when we found a bird dropping in LB’s hair earlier in the holiday.
I did tell him that it’s actually good luck if a bird dropping lands on you, but, no, the hat’s staying on apparently.
Until a little incident on the plane ride home almost landed me in deep trouble.
It was all going really well, thanks to a very noisy baby nearby who actually made my two look quiet. So there I was, basking – for the first time in five years – in the glory of being the mother of the less disruptive children, when BB handed me the hat for a minute to put his headset on – and I lost it.
Somehow, due to being sandwiched between two boys, three meal trays and all our in-flight paraphernalia, I’d totally lost track of it. We searched everywhere. BB crawled on the floor. I got down on my hands and knees too. But to no avail.
BB thought he might have left it in the toilet, so checked every single loo on board. I asked a flight attendant if it had been handed in, but she didn’t quite catch what I was saying and thought I was after the captain’s hat as a freebie.
Until, finally – after landing – a lady three rows behind suddenly produced it. How it got back there, I’ve no idea, but, luckily, it let me off the hook and BB’s avian coprophobia (fear of bird poop – I know this, because, ever the journalist, I looked it up) is being kept under his hat.