I am ancient. It was my birthday yesterday. Mr. Waffle and I went for a walk in the Wicklow mountains. It snowed on us. I’m hoping that this isn’t a metaphor for something.
Archives for March 2011
No, just no
This evening I was the lucky recipient of an email from a PR firm asking me to promote a number of products. The details of the one that caught my eye are as follows:
My Beautiful Mommy: Must Have for Mom’s Undergoing Plastic Surgery
Young children are naturally curious – they’re full of questions and excited to learn about the world they live in. However, as times change, children’s curiosities have addressed more complex and sensitive issues, often at younger ages. In today’s American culture, more than ever, answers can increasingly be found in children’s books. Everything from divorce and global warming to potty habits and how to deal with a death in the family, children’s books have tackled it all. Dr. Michael Salzhauer, a Miami board-certified plastic surgeon and father of four, has taken the reins on a very hot topic and wrote [sic] “My Beautiful Mommy,†the first ever children’s book that addresses plastic surgery. To learn more about the book , you can visit: www.mybeautifulmommy.com
Where will it all end?
On the other hand, this is more appealing.
Making Sense of the World Around Us
The Home Lives of Others
Me: Do you like the new babysitter?
Daniel: Yes.
Me: What language do you think [insert the most Irish name you can think of at this point – babysitter’s mother is a native Irish speaker from Donegal] speaks at home?
Daniel: I dunno, French?
Relations
Me: Everyone has two grandmothers. Do you know who your two grandmothers are?
Daniel: Grandma and Aunty Nic?
The Solar System
Daniel: Do you know which planet is closest to the sun?
Me: Mercury?
Daniel: Yes, and then it’s Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune. Do you want to hear about sunspots?
First Steps in Reading
Daniel has begun to read by sheer will power alone. He painstakingly sounds out words from everywhere. They are always slightly disappointing words – Avonmore, O’Neill’s, stop, yield – but he is undaunted. Next stop, the Russians.
St. Patrick’s Day
Last Thursday was St. Patrick’s Day. I dutifully started the day at mass. Further exposure to Saint Paul who continues to show his excellent turn of phrase and unbearable smugness:
“I have fought the good fight to the end; I have run the race to the finish; I have kept the faith; all there is to come now is the crown of righteousness reserved for me, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me on that Day..”
We took the children to the parade which was based on a short story by Roddy Doyle. Unfortunately only one of us had got around to reading the story and she was reluctant to share any of the details with her loving family. Nevertheless, it was all moderately entertaining.
In one aspect, it failed to please. The children had been saving their pennies to spend with the hawkers of St. Patrick’s day tat. Unfortunately, as we arrived, the gardaà were rounding up the illegal vendors’ stock for confiscation. One guard in his high-vis vest, was vigourously pushing a large old fashioned pram weighed down with horns, wigs, scarves and flags while being impotuned by an elderly, extraordinarily wrinkled lady. As he unloaded her tat into the van, my children went rushing up to ask whether they could buy some of it. Not a happy scene, I have to tell you.
Busy Lives
Michael came into the parental bed looking bleary eyed this morning and greeted me with, “What are we late for today?”
