Squinty

Kauê was lying in bed playing Minecraft on his video game when his mother came into the room.

- The church is holding a jumble sale, she said. I'm sorting out all our old clothes and toys.

- Okay, said Kauê, without taking his eyes off the TV screen.

While he played, his mother went through all the drawers in his wardrobe, pulling out bits and bobs Kauê was never going to use again and making a great pile on the floor. There were T-shirts that wouldn't go over his head. There were long-sleeved shirts that looked like short-sleeved shirts on him. There were trainers that squashed his toes and a load of trousers of every size but the right one. And there was everything Great Aunt Alberta had sent at Christmases and birthdays. Great Aunt Alberta was a little confused. She thought Kauê was permanently three years old.

- Kauê, said his mum, pointing at the pile. I'm taking all this.

- Cool, replied Kauê, still glued to the TV.

Next, his mum started on his toys. Lately, he only played with Lego and his Xbox, so by the time she'd finished raiding his shelves she'd made a pile of:

3 50-piece jigsaw puzzles.

3 100-piece jigsaw puzzles.

1 150-piece jigsaw puzzle.

10 plastic superheroes.

15 plastic dinosaurs.

1 set of baby building blocks.

1 Spiderman ring throwing game.

2 remote controlled cars, with no batteries.

1 pint-size Batman costume.

1 scary skeleton mask.

1 box of learning-to-read comics.

- Kauê, said mum, I'd like to take all this to the jumble sale. Alright with you?

Kauê unglued his eyes from the screen.

- The Spiderman game can stay, he said, glancing at the pile.

- But you've never used it!

- I will one day.

- I bet you won't, said mum. It says 8 years and younger on the box. You'll be 12 next birthday. I'm taking it.

- Fine, said Kauê, more interested in finishing his zombie-proof Minecraft sky-scraper castle with seven floors, swimming pool, mini-farm and giant rooms for all his friends, each with a sofa, a TV, a library and a sea-view balcony. 

His mum threw everything into a big black rubbish bag and took one last look round the room. She spotted Bidu 2, sitting beside the TV. The poor old bear had been in the same place for the last three years. She picked him up and dropped him in the bag.

- Uh uh, grunted Kauê, without stopping the game.

- He was your favourite, wasn't he, said mum, remembering how Kauê used to cuddle up to the scraggy old bear when he was a toddler. Bidu the First had disappeared one day, forgotten in some seaside hotel. Kauê had cried and cried and cried, until dad bought Bidu 2.

- He still is, said Kauê. He's staying.

Mum sighed, fingering the hole where once there was an eye.

- The poor old thing just sits by the TV gathering dust, she said, tugging at Bidu's torn ear and plucking hairs from his balding belly. Don't you think he'd be happier with another child? Someone that'll love him as much as you did?