Dear Mr Apple,
I’m not your biggest fan, to be honest. I’m much more of a banana boy myself. Less zingy, you know what I mean? However, I am writing to you because I have a problem. That I am hoping you can help me with.
It all started on Bank Holiday Monday, you see. After a particularly nice day in the woods. At bathtime. My mum is about as much a fan of bathtime as I am of apples. (Sorry to keep hammering that point home.) So she got my dad to do it. Bathtime, that is. He had had a couple of beers so, in hindsight, he possibly wasn’t the best person to leave in charge. If you get my drift. But it was either him or my six year old sister. And she is wild.
So there I was. In the bath. Doing what almost-two-year-olds do. Splashing. A secret wee. Seeing what I could stuff up my sister’s nose. The boat didn’t fit, in case you were wondering. Just as I was having the most fun, my dad got me out. Why do grown ups do that? Why are they always in such a hurry to kill the fun? Anyway, as far as I’m concerned, that’s where my part in this sorry story ends. Because I went to bed.
Are you still with me?
Well. Somewhere between then and later that night, an incident took place. Which I am sort of taking the flack for. Mainly because I’m the littlest, I can’t really talk and my two older sisters keep whispering my name and pointing at me. And this is where I need your help.
If my mum had done bathtime, she would have drained the bath immediately. But, as I said, it was my dad’s turn. So, it was several hours later that my mum came to do it. And that’s when she saw it.
Her iPad mini.
Resting at the bottom of the bath, whirring it’s way towards the plughole alongside the alphabet letters and the boat I tried to stick up my sister’s nose.
Now. My mum can really lose her s***. But fortunately, we were all asleep. And by the time morning came, she had calmed down a little. Although she still had us all in a line-up at dawn, interrogating us, one by one.
‘It wasn’t me,’ said my eldest sister.
‘It wasn’t me,’ said my middle sister.
It wasn’t me,’ said my dad.
‘Uh-oh,’ I said.
Now. You’re probably thinking. What sort of idiot am I? Why didn’t I just copy what the others said? And to be honest, I have no idea. I mean if I can repeat ‘s***’ like a parrot, you’d think I could at least manage, ‘It wasn’t me.’ Anyway I didn’t. And now my silence has turned into some sort of warped confession, where everyone thinks I did it.
And I would really like to clear my name. Because I used to be the favourite. I even have a t-shirt with, ‘I’m the favourite’ on it. And the more I think about it, I’m pretty sure one (or both) of my sisters framed me. They watch a lot of Disney and are really into all that ‘Girl Power’ rubbish.
So what I would like to know is this. Is there any way of drying or repairing my mum’s iPad so that we can see if there is any video footage, which shows what really happened?
It’s my only hope. Otherwise, apparently I’m grounded. Which would really suck, as I won’t see my mates at playgroup for a whole month. And if you’ve ever tried singing, ‘Zoom zoom zoom, we’re going to the moon,‘ on your own, you’ll know exactly where I’m coming from.
Many thanks for your time, Mr Apple. Hey, can I ask, is there any reason you went for the name, Apple, over Banana? Any at all?
The Boy with No Name, aged 22 months.