What's Brown and Sticky?

"This is my stick. He's called Martin."

My kids do love a good stick, especially the Boy. Whenever we have a trip to the park it always follows the same pattern; feeding the ducks (in the style of a Luftwaffe bombing raid - I swear they're trying to sink the ducks more than feed them), unintentionally insulting people ("Look at that man on that bike" - it was a woman in a wheelchair) and collecting thousands of sticks. I've never really seem them do anything with the sticks. Well, except for;

"Boy. I poke you in eye!"

(Cheerily) "OK!"

"AAAAAHHHH!!!! The Girl poked me in the eye!"

The Boy has even composed poems for sticks before; "Goodbye stick, you've been my friend. When I come back I'll see you again." It was very sweet. We didn't tell him we accidentally reversed over the stick as we left. But he's never named a stick before.

"This is my stick. He's called Martin."

"Really? Who's Martin?"

He held the stick aloft.

"This. Pay attention."

We have a wood burning stove in the living room. Sad to say that Martin accidentally found his way into it that evening. It was an accident. Honest. The Boy was less than impressed.

"Maybe we could change his name to Ash?" I suggested.

"You," he replied, "are not funny."

So, Martin is no longer brown and sticky.

Must dash, the Girl can't get up because she's "too flat."