Daniel: You’re no good at directions.
Me: That’s true, I often get lost.
Michael: You are no good at remembering. You often forget things.
Me: That is true also. Can we talk about what I’m good at?
Long pause.
Daniel [hesitantly]: You seem to go to a lot of meetings. Maybe you’re good at meetings?
Daniel
More Excellent Parenting
When we are in Cork, rules about electronic devices go out the window and, basically, if you can get to it, you can play it.
One night I brushed past Daniel who was on his way to bed. “Ow, ow,” he said. “What’s wrong, I barely touched you” I said. “Oh it’s nothing,” he replied,” just a thing I call ‘gamer’s thumb’.”
Naughty or Nice?
Michael: Are the Santa traps in place?
Daniel: Yes.
Michael: Don’t say what they are, he might hear us.
Daniel: What will we do if we catch him?
Michael: We’ll tiptoe up and then…boom, a knife straight to the heart!
Me (yelping): What?
Michael: He’s a stalker, “he knows when you’re asleep/he knows when you’re awake” and then he goes creeping around people’s houses at night.
Daniel: And those elves, they don’t get paid and if they don’t work hard enough, he tosses them out in the snow.
What are we to make of this, gentle reader?
More Adventures in Public Transport
One morning Michael was sick and Mr. Waffle had to stay home with him. I had an early meeting. We struggled to work out how herself and Daniel would get to school. In the end they took the bus into school together without any adult supervision. It all went fine, thank you very much. This whole public transport thing has a lot going for it.
Seasonal Break
Daniel is sick. Since Mr. Waffle was home with sick children on Thursday, Friday and Monday, today it is my turn. While I am not saying that this is how I would have chosen to use a day’s holiday, it is surprisingly restful. I have been keeping an eye on work emails and it is not restful in the office but they seem to be soldiering on without me.
The patient is much improved and, in retrospect, could possibly have gone to school today though he is barking like a seal so I suppose not entirely better. I brought him breakfast in bed and the Beano arrived so, frankly, it has been a pretty good day so far from his point of view. I have been sunk deep in domestic administration. Aside from standard issue stuff like tidying up the house, putting on a wash and steaming plum pudding [standard for this time of year], I have also telephoned photobox to tell them that they sent me some of my photos and some of someone else’s. Photobox has been my photo printer of choice for a year and I have never had a problem until now. They only allow email by contact form and, bizzarely, my problem wasn’t one of the choices which were listed. So, I turned to the telephone. 25 minutes on hold. That is a LONG wait. When the phone call was answered, the person was gratifyingly on the ball and apologetic. But still, 25 minutes. The call centre person sounded like she might have been from the Far East which is why I forgave her for her one faux pas in our conversation: “Please tear up the other photos. Normally we ask you to mail them back but we only have freepost on the mainland.” If there is one expression more than any other guaranteed to irritate someone from Ireland it is English people saying “the mainland”. As I say, she didn’t sound English, I rose above it.
Other non-standard tasks included the insurance cheque. My husband is, as you know, a saint. He renewed our house insurance but then got a better offer so wrote to the original company and cancelled their policy and they promptly refunded a large cheque made out to both of us but, let’s call a spade a spade, paid over by him. The other night he endorsed it and said to me, “You might as well have this.” Oh the thrill and at such an expensive time of year. I lodged it gleefully and promptly spent it. It was therefore with some regret that I received a letter from my bank this morning [written on non-headed paper with hardly any details, is this not odd?] returning the cheque and pointing out that since it was “account payee only” it could only be lodged to a joint account. In a very 21st century way, we don’t have a joint account except, as Mr. Waffle pointed out, the mortgage account. I rang the bank to ask whether we could lodge the cheque to the mortgage account. I left a voicemail message and had very little hope that they would get back to me but, bonus points for Bank of Ireland, they did and gratifyingly promptly. Yes, they could lodge it in the mortgage account. My cheque (note how possessive I have become in the space of one short paragraph) is now about to be spent (again) in the most boring way known to man. Woe. Though logistic convenience, I suppose.*
Final non-standard task was library book renewal, I am astounded at how easy this was to do (normally my husband takes care of these things) – Dublin city libraries, I take my hat off to you. This afternoon, I have a further range of exciting administrative tasks to achieve in my unexpected day off. Honestly, could this blog be any more exciting?
*Updated to add: An inspection of my bank account this afternoon indicates that my saintly husband has decided to make good the deficit. Hurrah, Christmas is back on. Also, I was able to pay the plumber who has just gone, leaving hot water in his wake.
Daniel at 9
It’s just over two months since Daniel turned 9 so this is not exactly a timely birthday post but never mind.
Physically, Daniel is the sturdiest of my children, the other two tending towards willowy/super skinny. He is taller than his brother and nearly as tall as his older sister (a source of some distress to her). He still has the most beautiful white gold hair and occasionally I will say to him at dinner, “Your hair is lovely this evening.” A remark which he invariably treats with withering contempt. He really needs his glasses and reaches for them first thing in the morning without fail. He now has grown up square glasses which is what he wants but I pine for the adorable round ones he used to have.
Daniel is very sporty. Unfortunately for him, no one else in his immediate family is. He always wants to be kicking a football but there is nobody to kick a football with. He has GAA training twice a week and a match every weekend but he is still very keen to begin rugby and soccer training (which we have steadfastly resisted on the grounds that it is hard enough for us to meet his existing sporting commitments). He plays his heart out every time. Last weekend, I went to watch him play. One of the players on the other team was as broad as he was tall. He was enormous in every way and also quite a skillful player. Although Daniel is sturdier than his brothers and sisters, he is still on the skinnier side of average and he must have been only half the size of this child. He marked him with unrelenting fervour. When this boy had the ball, Daniel stuck with him like glue. Daniel went in with his shoulder (standard GAA instruction) but it was like a pebble hitting a mountain. Still Daniel never gave up for the whole game. He was “man of the match”. I was filled with pride. One of the other parents is always a bit cross with me and Mr. Waffle as we don’t give Daniel sufficient support at home; this is true, we are never to be seen in the garden tossing around a sliotar. Poor Daniel; cursed by his family’s uselessness.
Sports photography is very challenging – this is the best I could do.
He is very thorough in his school work which is quite spectacularly neat. The work is easy for him I think but he is anxious to do everything right and in this he reminds me of myself as a school girl. He worries about lots of things. I am a constant high risk as without the slightest warning I may kiss or hug him in public possibly even near the school. As we approach the school in the morning, he usually has a hand out to stop any unwelcome and embarrassing physical contact.
He has high standards for all of us, a developing sense of duty and a very kind nature. That can be quite a frustrating combination for him on occasion and I think he sometimes despairs of his family. This can make him quite cross and inclined to leave in what Myles na gCopaleen called that “lofty vehicle, high dudgeon.â€
He is very polite and will always ask solicitously at dinner, “How was your day?” He hasn’t totally got up to speed on appearing interested in the answer yet but that will come. On the phone, he always asks, “How are you?” And waits politely for your reply.
He is thorough at home also and if asked to do a job around the house will usually do it well and complete it – perhaps not happily – but resignedly.  His instincts, I think, are tidy. However, he leaves his shoes wherever he decides to take them off which drives me to the brink of madness as I find them by tripping over them again. Also, his socks never seem to make it to the laundry basket and I find them in a range of unlikely places.
He loves Minecraft and plants v. zombies. He is only allowed to play the x-box at the weekends and even as I write he is blowing things up in the room next door. During the week when not allowed on the x-box, he uses his computer time to watch videos about minecraft of which there seem to be an everlasting supply (Dan the Diamond Mine Cart anyone?). He and his siblings have spent the last month building Harry Potter’s world in Minecraft and on the walk to school this is sometimes all they talk about.
He likes to read but it pales in comparison to the excitement offered by electronic devices. On television, he is very taken with Dr. Who and Father Ted. He loves Fr. Jack whom I find very dull but each to his own. It is lovely to see him laughing hysterically because he can sometimes be a very serious child who takes injustice to heart, particularly as it relates to time on electronic devices.
He continues to be very good at picking up accents. Five minutes with someone with a different accent and he will be speaking like that person.  He is fond of Americanisms and many things are “awesome”. His Irish seems pretty good and he can still understand French and make the fiendishly hard vowel sounds. He has a really lovely singing voice which he largely refuses to use. He joined the church choir for a bit but had to give up as it clashed with GAA practice. He sings in the school choir and I think he quite enjoys it but he does find the spotlight mildly alarming. He often says the prayer of the faithful at mass and he speaks very loudly and clearly. I really admire his courage as he is quite nervous about speaking in front of a church full(ish) of people but grits his teeth and does it anyway.
He is interested in all kinds of things. Last night he came down to tell us that the cat was throwing up in his room and while Mr. Waffle went to kindly deal with this domestic disaster, Daniel and I looked at maps showing the origin of European words which Mr. Waffle and I had been perusing prior to his arrival (hello, and welcome to nerdville).  Daniel seemed genuinely interested although I conceded it may just have been better than the cat getting sick but I don’t think so. He is a strong reader of fact books and I know a lot about “Ripley’s Believe it or Not” facts thanks to him and I think this fell into a similar category.
He continues to resist eating most savoury foods. There was great rejoicing here in Waffle Towers when the sausage was recently added to the list of acceptable foods. Usually for dinner he has crackers or toast. Fortunately, he likes milk, porridge and bread so I hope that this keeps him going. After all, it worked for the medieval peasants. He also has hot chocolate which is his favourite thing.
Like all children, he fights with his siblings, particularly his sister. He and she are quite alike and since she is two years older, she often wins by dint of superior knowledge and cunning which drives him bananas. He is more inclined to fight physically with his brother giving him a shove rather than a verbal dig but mostly they get on very well as they have so many interests in common. I often find their conversations utterly incomprehensible as they discuss arcane aspects of Dr. Who or the advice of eyeballistic squid (?).
Despite his unwillingness to appear related to me in public he is an affectionate child in private. It is nice to get a hug from him as like everything he does, he really puts his heart into it. He is so keen to grow up and be big. He can’t wait to be sixteen so that he can get “HALO”.  I hope he will still be hugging me then.
