Daniel: why is New York called the Big Apple?
Me: I don’t know.
Him: Maybe it’s called after Apple the computer company.
Daniel
This Week’s Forced March
The children and I were in Cork this weekend. We went from Kinsale out to Summercove. We visited Charles Fort. This was greeted with reasonable levels of enthusiasm. The nice man at the entrance gave the children a cannon ball to lift and explained in some detail how to load and light a cannon which they enjoyed.
And then we went to the Bulman for lunch. All very satisfactory. Note soulful expression while herself waits for mussels.
The only fly in the ointment was the driving rain that accompanied our walk back to the car. We were passed by a couple of tourists who were readily identifiable by their all enveloping rain gear. Locals like ourselves looked damp and unprepared. [What? Rain? Here? In Cork? Who would ever bring an umbrella on a walk?]
Today was the day the clocks went forward. I wish I had realised this earlier. This morning at 10.15, the Princess and I went to visit my mother in the hospital. I breezily assured my father that we would be back for 11.40 to accompany him and the boys to mass. He looked dubious, as well he might, I realised, in retrospect, as it was 11.15 when I left. No one in my family went to mass today and it was all my fault. Alas.
I was going to bring my mother’s sewing table back to Dublin with me but lost my nerve at the prospect of bringing it and children and luggage. I had a quick look through the contents which included my brother’s report for second year in school, lots of thread, a 70s large capital letter still in its packet that had clearly been destined to be appliquéd to something and this school photo of me when I was about the same age as herself. I am always struck by how alike we look though I think I look considerably less sophisticated than she does.
Michael made me a card for Mother’s Day, herself gave me a paper rose (complex to make, I understand) and Daniel wrote me a poem which he sang aloud despite his embarrassment. Herself said bitterly, “The poem won.” Mr. Waffle said to her, “It’s not a competition; I know you and your mother think everything is a competition but it’s not.” Did you know that Mr. Waffle was brought up by hippies?
Here is the poem*:
I think you are nice even it you have head lice,**
I think you are kind, there’s not a nicer mother I can find,
I think you are calm, I won’t find a calmer person in my whole life span,
I think you’re swell, every time I hear your name it rings a bell,
I think you’re funnier than a magic racing bunny,
I think you’re superb, you’re better than Phinneas and Ferb.
That’s my song done, I hope you have fun.
Goodbye.
*Slightly idiosyncratic spelling and grammar amended.
** Not as far as I am aware but I am feeling slightly paranoid after our recent encounter with lice.
The poem was lovely but so were the rose and the card and the flowers and chocolates Mr. Waffle bought. It turns out that not everything is a competition. I hope that you had a lovely mother’s day.
Lenten Sacrifices
It is Lent. The children have brought their Trócaire boxes home from school. Michael instantly deposited his entire savings of €15 in the box. I suggested that he might like to give a percentage of his savings but no, with tears in his eyes he told me that “these children really need it”. As Mr. Waffle said, there is a reason why they distribute Trócaire boxes in schools, not workplaces.
Michael has given up the computer for Lent it may kill him. Daniel has given up Fifa 14 but this is not the sacrifice it might be as we also have Fifa 13.
The Organised Child Plans Ahead
Daniel (who, you will recall, is 8): Where am I going to secondary school?
Me: We’ll see it’s not until you’re 12, we have time.
Daniel: Well I want to go to [the school for which his primary is a feeder].
Me: OK, that’s quite likely, why do you want to go there?
Daniel: Because my friends and I are all going to go there together and then we’re all going to college in Trinity and then [pause] we’ll live our lives.
On questioning Michael, he too had the same plans – clearly there’s a group in the class hard at work on these important issues. When asked, “Why Trinity?” he said, with dignity, “Because I know where it is.” Practical.
Parent Teacher Meetings
We had our annual parent-teacher meetings. Mr. Waffle and I went along and wedged ourselves into tiny primary school size chairs and heard that all is well. Though Michael is inclined to question the utility of much of his repetitive labours such as colouring, writing and sums which could be done much more speedily and effectively on the computer. I got the impression that his teacher did not entirely welcome Michael’s consequent reluctance to engage in these activities. However, some kind of truce appears to have been worked out. I am pleased to reveal that only other day I was summoned to the classroom to admire a project on Ancient Greece which he, his brother and a classmate had worked on. It involved both colouring and writing and they were all justly proud of their labours.
Relationship Status: It’s Complicated
Daniel: Jabba the Hutt has a son, was he married?
Michael: No, I think Hutts just breed naturally.
Me: What did Jabba the Hutt do again?
Daniel: He made Princess Leia wear inappropriate clothing.
Michael: That’s not really a problem in “Angry Birds Star Wars” though.
There’s a whole world out there.
