belgianwaffle

Archives for April 2008

Mr. Waffle’s quotes of the week


Posted in: Mr. Waffle

The meeting of the logistics committee was suspended for an ad hoc emergency session of the vomit committee.
On having to abandon our discussion on what was happening during the following week to deal with Daniel getting sick.

Sure, as long as it’s fair trade recycled non-bleach eco-cotton.
On being told by his eco-terrorist wife that she would like one of these.

I have to struggle against terrible prejudice.
On being told by the Princess’s teacher that for her majesty’s birthday, his wife should make a smallish cake for the class. He makes the cakes here.

Ah excellent, competency based child-rearing; this will stand her in good stead, if the current interview fad lasts – tell me, what did you do to achieve the result described.

On being told about an interesting article (via this entertaining blog) which says that we should be specific in the praise we give our children, e.g. not you played really well but that was a great pass you made in the second half that led to a goal.

How could they?


Posted in: Princess, Reading etc.

The return of Berlusconi has given the media a field day looking out his most inappropriate quotes from old files and happily awaiting new ones.

His most annoying comment of recent times is on the new Zapatero government in Spain which has a majority of female ministers.  According to this source, Mr Berlusconi suggested it is “too pink.”   He went on to say “he [Mr Zapatero] has asked for it, he will have problems leading them,” adding that “[i]n Italy there is a prevalence of men in politics and therefore it is not so easy to find women who are ready for the government.”

Magdalena Alvarez, Spain’s infrastructure minister, described the remark as offensive and said that “[m]any of us women would refuse to work for a government that had Mr Berlusconi as prime minister.”   Berlusconi tried to make amends by saying that he “greatly appreciated the colour pink in that government” and that “[i]t’s possible that the female members take a series of measures stemming from the everyday life, from the concrete reality of being a mother, a wife and perhaps also a working woman.”  “Perhaps also”?   I found this link on further comparisons between Messrs. Berlusconi and Zapatero; again, unflattering to the former.

When I came in to work, earlier this week, a female colleague drew my attention to this picture of the new Spanish Minister for Defence reviewing troops in Madrid.  She is the first woman to hold the post and also seven months pregnant.   It perked us both up.  Viva Zapatero.

Meanwhile, on the domestic front, I fear that all is not what it might be in the arena of gender stereotyping.  I had the following conversation with the Princess this evening.

Me: How was your school trip to the farm today?

Her: Great, I rubbed a sheep, a donkey and a bull [Really?]. Can I have horse riding lessons?  I didn’t rub a pig.  There were no pigs.   There was a dog though but we weren’t allowed to rub it in case it bit us.  We had Peter Pan on the bus in French and all the songs were in French [spirited rendition of same].

Me [a little overwhelmed by the flow of eloquence]: Was the farmer there?

Her: No, just our teachers.  There was another woman who showed us things.

Me:  That was probably the farmer.

Her: But it was a woman.

Me: But women can be farmers.

Her: But she had a baby.

Me: Even women with babies can be farmers.

Her: Sceptical expression.

Imagine women with babies can even be Spanish ministers for defence.

Aaargh


Posted in: Reading etc.

My oldest friend is 40 tomorrow and I wanted to give her a present of a subscription to the New Yorker and, because of the kind of person I am, I am only doing it now.  And because of the stupid, insular kind of publication the New Yorker is they will not allow you to put more than a certain number of characters for the address on their stupid subscription form.  Since my friend lives in Asia where they happen to require more characters in the address than the stupid, idiot New Yorker form will allow, my tasteful gift is not now going to be with her tomorrow is it?

Perhaps a subscription to something else?  What?  Please, please help me.

I thought I might just say stupid again as it will make me feel better.

Still in recovery


Posted in: Princess

We had the Princess’s birthday party on Sunday. It was brutal. Unlike everything else in my experience, children’s birthday parties are always worse than one fears. A week beforehand we sat down with the Princess and asked her who from her class she wanted to invite. She named 8 children, two of whom we had never heard of. Mr. Waffle designed invitations and sent them out into the world (via the classroom assistant) with an RSVP note. We got 4 replies, 3 yes and 1 no. Four children didn’t reply at all which I think is appalling. It also makes me sad because, clearly, the Princess’s party wasn’t first on their priority lists.

So, all the kiddies arrived between 3.30 and 4.00. My attempt to play pass the parcel was stymied partly by the trickle of new arrivals which necessitated greeting and present opening and partly by the Princess’s best friend from school, L. Mr. Waffle does not like L. How L treats the Princess on any given day determines whether our evening will be pleasant or unpleasant. I like L’s mother and she lives round the corner from us. I often take L for an afternoon or the Princess goes to her house. L does blow hot and cold but I haven’t really seen much harm in her. On Sunday, I fundamentally revised my view. She did not like the Princess getting attention from the other children from school. She insisted that they sit out pass the parcel with her. Since L’s mother had not yet left, my opportunities for discipline were limited. When a little boy from the Princess’s class (who seems like a lovely child) tried to talk to the Princess or play with her, L intervened and took him away. She gathered the two other children from school round her and excluded my daughter. I could see that the Princess was upset but I think she doesn’t have the emotional sophistication to understand why or to see what’s happening with any clarity. It was abundantly clear to me that L was only nice to her when she (L) was cross with the other children. All of the other children at the party were basically nice, pleasant little people and, it is unfortunate, that my daughter had to be “friends” with the annoying one.

We had hired a children’s entertainer to, well, entertain. I deeply disapprove of this. We always had wonderful parties when I was little with treasure hunts and all manner of excitements organised by my mother. On the other hand, we had a big garden; the Waffle etablissement is a second floor appartment. Like all the things of which one disapproves, it’s never so bad when you’re doing it yourself. She was due to arrive at 4.15. There was a brief moment when I thought that she might not come and I think that this may be the closest I have ever come to a panic attack. Don’t mock the afflicted.

She came, she was dressed as a witch. She was worth every penny of her exorbitant fee. L announced that she was not a real witch. When the witch asked whether the children liked colouring, L said she did not and encouraged her coterie to do likewise. When the witch left, L craned her head out the window to see the witch getting into a car and changing and announced this to all the children there and pointed out that the Princess did not have a real witch at her party. I wanted to smack her but I just ignored her. Later my daughter told me that the witch really liked her because she (the witch) had asked the Princess to help with the spells. It did not even cross her mind that the witch might be nice to her because it was her birthday, let alone because her parents had forked out a considerable sum. I can’t help feeling that the poor Princess has the emotional IQ of a gnat and, of all people, she is least likely to appreciate the implications of being friends with a little manipulator.

Despite my concerns, I think she did, on balance, enjoy her party and, I suppose, that is something.

Low cut or, gosh, the personal really is political


Posted in: Daniel, Reading etc.

The other day, I was wearing what I thought was a perfectly respectable top to go to work. Daniel stuck his hand down the front of it and, poking at a breast, said, “what’s that?” “It’s my breast,” I said. “This is Daniel breast” he said hoisting up his pyjama top.

I suppose Angela Merkel must have felt the same way after her recent trip to Norway where she stunned the world by wearing this. I am indebted to the Irish Times for the information that Ms. Merkel was “surprised but not unflattered that, considering important themes like energy, security aand the Afghanistan mission, the world had nothin better to report on than the ‘new arrangement of the Chancellor’s inventory'”.

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