Kiddie Pool

It was a hot Spring afternoon, and beautiful pink blossom petals were dancing onto the garden path. I was swimming in the paddling pool, playing with my rubber duck, while Slomo lay back in his deck chair wearing his shades and sunning himself. I looked up at the cherry blossom tree I was swimming underneath, and decided Slomo would want to have a go too. So, I called: “Come on, Slomo! It’s great!”

Slomo put down his suntan mirrors and wheeled over towards me. He dipped his claw like hand into the water. “Hmmm….feels warm.” he said. Then….SPLASH! I grabbed Slomo and dragged him into the water. Both of us were laughing as we splashed each other, and then, a blossom petal landed on my nose. Slomo and I breathed in deeply. A sweet smell filled the Spring air.

“Is there a Hanami going on far away in Japan?” I asked. “Maybe, but I think to join we may have to go by plane.” said Slomo. “I’ll tell you what - tomorrow, we’ll make some of our own Japanese recipes and have a picnic under the tree. How does that sound?” “Oh Slomo, you are the bee’s knees!” I cried.

So the very next day, after a morning-long cooking session (Slomo’s HK technology was built for this, you know), we went outside into the garden and talked, laughed and shared some beautifully made Japanese food like pancakes and fish-shaped teriyaki, as blossom petals gently fell around us.

Then, Slomo put his hands together and said: “Heiwa.” That’s Japanese for ‘peace’. Not knowing what else to do, I put my own hands together, closed my eyes, and said that very word Slomo was saying, a word to bring unity:

“Heiwa.”

No Water = Dehydration

“Uuuurrrgggh…” I stumbled into the kitchen feeling very gross-looking, with wild hair and dry, red eyes. Slomo was cleaning up when he saw me treading in like a slow giant. “What’s wrong?” he asked, reassuringly. “I’m so dehydrated,” I groaned, “I’ve been taking a nap, but I feel so achy and tired. I have heartburn and indigestion and my head feels like it’s about to explode.” “Looks like you feel dehydrated,” said Slomo, “Come on, let’s get you onto the sofa.”

Slomo carried me over to the sofa and placed me onto its soft surface. He then placed a blanket over me and went into the kitchen. He came back minutes later with an ice pack, a glass of water and some paracetamol. He had snapped the two pills in half, and said, “Here. Take these, it’ll make you feel all better.” I took the pills slowly. “Slomo, you are kind,” I sighed, sinking down into the sofa. “Of course I am,” said Slomo softly, “You need plenty of rest. Without it, where else would you be?”

“I’ve scratched myself,” I said, pointing at some scars on my chest. “Oh dear,” said Slomo, and he went to fetch a tub of soothing cream from the bathroom. He came back with it and applied it to my scar-ridden chest. “That should make you feel all better,” he said.

“Stay by my side, Slomo,” I whimpered, “Just so I could tell you when I’m in pain again.” “Of course I will. I know I’ve got lots more things to do, but don’t worry. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel better.” “Th-th-thank you,” I stuttered.

Slomo stayed by my side, telling stories and singing lullabies, until I smiled and drifted off to sleep.

Scary Monsters & Nice Robots

“Slomo….Slomo, are you awake?” I asked, gently shaking my robotic carer Slomo awake. Slomo awoke with a yawn and stretch of his robotic gears. “What is it?” he asked sleepily. I felt afraid, and my knees began to shake like collapsing buildings. “It’s the monsters,” I whimpered, “I’m afraid they might come back tonight and eat me.” “What kinds of monsters?” asked Slomo. “Ones with fierce claws and sharp teeth and gears which your hair can catch onto!”

“No monsters are going to get you tonight, Sybil,” said Slomo, a hint of sleepiness in his voice, “But you know what?” “What?” I asked, confused. “I have terrible dreams too. I have dreams of the times I got blown up or ripped apart or destroyed…but that was alright, because that was in the past. Look at me! I’m fully rebuilt! No monsters are going to harm us tonight, not even people who threaten to rip me apart.”

“We still have the light off,” I said, my voice low with sorrow, “I’ll get out the toadstool nightlight.” I took out my nightlight and placed it on my bedside table, then I switched it on. A cosy yellow and red glow filled the entire room as Slomo and I snuggled down to sleep.

I felt the softness of my bed in the glow of a warm light, sighing contentedly, then Slomo took me in his arms and gave me the biggest, most loving hug in the world. You know you can rely on Slomo when you’re afraid of monsters in the dark, and do you hear that? It’s me, laughing. Laughing because Slomo is hugging me like a big brother would.

Well, he is like a robotic big brother after all!