Me: Stop torturing the cat.
Herself: I’m not torturing her, she likes it.
Daniel: It’s mean to torture animals.
Me: Yes it is.
Daniel: And to kill them.
Me: Yes, indeed.
Daniel: But you ate a lamb.
Boys
Concerns
Daniel gets cross very quickly. He is liable to whack his siblings at the slightest provocation; not that the provocation they offer is necessarily slight. He used not to hit outside the family but he came home from school before Christmas cheerily labelled by his brother as a “buachaill dana”. Michael is himself a smug “buachaill deas” and his homework is good too. This is the problem with being a twin, you are always measured against your sibling. The teacher confirmed that Daniel had been whacking his little companions and had been sent to the “oifig” to reflect upon his sins. She didn’t seem too concerned and said words to the effect of “boys, what can you do?” We traced the onset of his poor behaviour at school to the time he moved table to sit beside another “buachaill dana” who seemed to bear the brunt of his aggression. The teacher has moved Daniel again and he now seems to be faring much better at the bord bui. I know I sound like some dreadful caricature mother but, poor Daniel, he does really feel things more than his two siblings (yes, I know, cold comfort to the whackee). He gets very upset, if he feels we are laughing at him or haven’t understood him. These traits are going to make for excellent teenage years, are they not?
Meanwhile being a buachaill deas is taking its toll on Michael who since starting school has begun to bite his nails and is wetting the bed almost nightly. Sigh.
They both regularly ask to go back to Montessori (particularly Michael) and speak fondly of the toys and games there though neither was at all keen at the time.
And, after extended Christmas break, they are going back on Wednesday, I wonder how that will go?
Feeling Sentimental
Since the afternoon driving home from work when I had the slash and burn budget on RTE radio 1, child abuse on Today FM, general economic doom and gloom on Newstalk and yet more cricket on Radio 4, I have, increasingly been listening to Christmas FM. The clue is in the title, they play Christmas music interspersed with DJ chatter – it’s manned by volunteers and all profits go to a homeless charity. I have learnt that there are an awful lot of dreadful Christmas tunes, I like the Enya Christmas song (I know) and even “Fairytale of New York” will pall eventually. My children now believe that Wham’s “Last Christmas” is as much part of the seasonal canon as “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” and, who knows, perhaps they are right. You haven’t lived until you have heard three small children singing about how this year they will be giving their hearts “to someone especial, especial..”
One afternoon while in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher I heard an unappealing Christmas ditty about my “grown-up Christmas list”. The singer was hoping that Santa would bring her world peace. I found myself thinking idly along the following lines: that is so stupid, Santa doesn’t even come to grown-ups and, of course, children won’t ask for world peace, selfish little blighters. Then I stopped and reflected that even if our children DID ask for world peace, it might be a difficult one to deliver. Does this mean that deep down I still believe in Santa Claus?
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.
Mr. Waffle’s Moment of Truth
Daniel: Is there actimel in my lunch box?
Mr. Waffle: No, but there is fruit: grapes and apple.
Daniel and Michael in chorus: I don’t like grapes.
Mr. Waffle: No Michael, there is a banana for you.
Michael: I don’t want a banana.
Mr. Waffle: Well, Michael, every day you get a banana for school and it doesn’t come home so, I assume, something happens to it in school.
Michael: Yes, I put it in the bin.
And in today’s link section, an appealing post by a woman whose school sandwiches are never rejected because (insert really terrified gasp here), she homeschools her children.
Cross-cultural confusion
Michael: Christmas is Jesus’s birthday.
Me: Yes, that’s right.
Michael begins to cry.
Me: What’s wrong?
Michael: That means Jesus gets all the presents.
Me: No, no, the baby Jesus loves us all so much that he wants all the children to have presents.
Princess: And Santa delivers the presents with help from his brother Saint Nicolas and his sister the Befana.
Call the tabloids
Me: Does anybody know who Barack Obama is?
Her: Yes, let me think, yes, he is the President of the United States.
Me: Very good.
Daniel: I’ve seen him.
Me: Really?
Daniel: Yes.
Me: Where?
Daniel: Outside my window.
Me: Oh yes?
Daniel: Oh yes, and he was naked.
And here’s a nice link for those who love Dr. Seuss.
And for the cat owners with children, keep the children away from the hole punch or your cat may end up like this.
