Daniel: Guess what I heard a boy say in the park?
Me: What sweetheart?
Him: “Fook off, stop touchin’ me bag.”
Me: Oh dear, that’s not very nice. Don’t say that.
Him: But that’s what he said.
Me: But it’s not very nice, we don’t say that.
Him: Yes, we say my bag.
Daniel
Weekend Round Up
The boys went to two birthday parties this weekend. Very exciting. Birthday party one was in one of these indoor play centre places which they both loved and I dropped them and ran. On my return Michael confided to me sadly, “There was nothing I liked to eat but I drank the orange juice.” They had chicken nuggets, chips, ketchup and cake. When you would really like your child to eat chicken nuggets, you know you have hit rock bottom.
On Sunday we went to a completely different party. The birthday boy was 4 and an only child. As it happened almost all the other invitees were 4 or younger. It was a collection of the north inner city’s middle classes. One pipe bomb could have taken us all out. There were about 20 kids there and a good sprinkling of associated parents. The Princess wandered up to a table where I was chatting to a father who was there with his 4 and 2 year old children. She was deriving mild entertainment from rubbing a balloon on her hair. “My goodness,” said the Daddy of the two small children, “your hair’s standing on end, why is that?” “Static electricity,” she said coldly, leaving him somewhat deflated. That’s the difference between 4 and 8, I suppose.
On Saturday night Mr. Waffle and I went to see The Pride of Parnell Street. This is two monologues with no interval and we were in the fourth row and I was tired so, towards the end I fell asleep until woken by the sound of elderly ladies giving a standing ovation. Oh dear. We did a lot for the average age of the audience. The only person we could see who was younger than us was a little girl of about 9 further down our row. Would you take your young child to a play about domestic violence and the collapse of a marriage? Answers on a postcard, please.
The play itself was good but it dragged. I’m not sure whether it was the direction or the script; I don’t think that it was the format, I’ve been to compelling monologues and at least this had two actors. And it was likely to please. I know the setting intimately and could summon immediately to mind every location that the actors mentioned. It was nicely written. I thought that the wife was really excellent although the husband failed to impress. It was full of [described] incident but I fell asleep [during one of the husband’s bits]. Never a really ringing endorsement. And Mr. Waffle did lighting for the director when they were all students together [Mr. Waffle’s lighting career probably peaked about then] and the director’s wife was in my bookclub years ago. So you can see how we really wanted to love it. But we didn’t. I think I preferred “Thor”. Will we all cry together?
Critical Appreciation
Me: Guess what Daddy and I went to see in the cinema last night?
Daniel and Michael: What?
Me [Don’t mock – even the teenage ticket vendor sneered at us]: Thor, God of Thunder
Them [in unison]: And hater of hair cuts.
Me [Trying to figure out some parts of the plot]: Who were Thor’s enemies that he defeated?
Michael: The Jacobites.
Hmm
Daniel and I were listening to Umberto Tozzi, an Italian, singing his most famous number [Gloria] in Spanish. “That’s not English,” said my son sagely. “I know what language it is, it’s Irish!”
I corrected his misapprehension. A couple of days later, Daniel asked me, “Mummy, what was that song again, the one we were singing together in Japanese?”
Trouble in Paradise
Background: It is the Easter holidays. Mr. Waffle is minding the children every morning this week. As you know, regular lengthy exposure to small children can lead to tetchiness. I have been sailing into work early unencumbered by anything in particular, having made no sandwiches, dressed no one, given no one breakfast and driven no one to school. In the evenings, I return all sweetness and light.
I overheard this exchange from the kitchen this evening.
Daniel: I wish we had two Mummies.
Michael: Well, I don’t.
Daniel: Why not?
Michael: Because then we’d have to have two grumpy Daddies as well.
A Future in Policing?
When I came home the other evening the boys were working hard on sheets of paper. They explained that they were working to foil burglars. First, they had written their names and crossed them out so that the burglars would not know that they lived here. Then, Daniel had written, “I hate you” to show that they were not welcome. Then the boys decided that this approach would not fool the hardened criminals whom they were trying to put off. So, one of them [my guess is Daniel on Michael’s instruction] wrote “Toys 1,025 4 Free” (actually 4 rfee but let us not quibble). Their plan was to stick this notice, which they had photocopied a number of times on the printer, up on various toyshops. Then, as they earnestly explained to me, the burglars would go into the toyshops and be caught by “the cops” in a sting operation.
