Herself is very responsible. She was feeling a bit unwell the other day and she said, “I can’t be sick, I have so much to do.” I did sympathise.
She is the queen of committees and organising. She had to manage a cake sale after mass one Sunday. Her teacher and some fellow students were there. Her teacher asked her whether she would make an announcement that there was a cake sale after mass. “Does the priest know?” she asked. “No you just go up and tell him,” said the teacher. “During mass?” she asked shocked to the core of her being. “Yes,” said the teacher, “he won’t mind.” “He very much will,” said herself. She found some priestly acolyte and told her tale of woe and saw him telling the priest during the reading while the priest gave her the evil eye. “I’m going to go up at the end after communion” she told the teacher. It soon became abundantly clear that the teacher was a bit unsure as to where the end was as every time the congregation stood up, he would hiss to her, “Go up now, it’s ending now.” If you’ve ever been to mass, you know that standing up and sitting down again is part of the thrill. Eventually she said, “A mháistir, have you actually ever been to mass before? Leave it with me, my mother makes me go every Sunday, I know when it’s over.” She did.
She organised for a group of students and teachers from her school to go on the climate change march last month, much to the chagrin of her brother Michael, it has to be said, who would have preferred to be at basketball practice and peeled off as early as possible.
So on this evening she was sick, I knew she would have lots on and I asked what she had to do. “Well, I have to email my work experience to let them know that I won’t be in on Monday because I’m going to that school trust conference I helped organise; I have to prepare a presentation on climate change to give at the conference and it has to not overlap with R’s which will be difficult because when I thought she was doing the only presentation, I gave her all my material; I have to ring the principal of my primary school and agree to a date to go in and talk to the students about this charity we’re fundraising for; I have to do an essay on the hijab in French and an essay on the Rwandan genocide in Irish which is difficult because we watched a film in English and it’s always harder to write about something in Irish when you’ve learnt about it in English; I have an essay on American exceptionalism for my law and politics course; and I have to finalise my entry for the translation competition.”
“Goodness,” I said, “maybe you could drop the translation competition.” “Nope,” she said, “it’s a cash prize and I need the money.”
I told Mr. Waffle about her list of tasks. He said, “Does it strike you that our 15 year old daughter has a curiously adult to do list?” Certainly quite exhausting in any event. You will be pleased to hear that she was much better in the morning which, frankly, was just as well.
