For the last number of weeks, the children have been waving chopsticks around and shouting “Stupefy” and “Expelliarmus”. They have printed off lists of spells from the internet which is disturbingly thorough in this regard. They are working their way through them. This game is showing no signs of palling. Daniel, who is chameleon-like in relation to accents, has decided that an English accent is best for casting spells, so we have a little boy with glasses running around, waving a chopstick and shouting out Latin(ish) words in an English accent. It’s all very odd.
Boys
The Battle of the Boyne
We visited the site of the Battle of the Boyne a number of years ago. It made a lasting impression on the children. The other night, Michael asked me for a Jacobite biscuit. Some probing revealed that he meant a Jacob’s cream cracker. That is all.
Céad Fhaoistin
The boys made their first confession this evening. Their sister sang in the school choir. They were all a mass of tension. Herself because she had a solo; the boys because they had to confess their sins and in Irish to boot. I had read them Frank O’Connor’s “First Confession” to get them in the mood.
It all passed off peacefully. The children did a drama on the altar about the lamb who had gone astray (Michael was the lamb) and then went up and made their first confession. It’s a lovely ceremony. The priest told them, quite mendaciously (one assumes), that he had been speaking to the new Pope who had said they were all good boys and girls. When he asked where the Pope was from, there was a forest of hands which did not include Michael’s. He was leaning over the edge of the pew examining the parquet flooring. Daniel, however, was a credit to us and very serious, sober and upright throughout.
At the end, Michael asked me whether he could now get the “holy bread” at mass on Sunday thus showing his, alas, utter ignorance of the nature of the sacrament of reconciliation which he had just received. He appears to have fatally confused first confession and first communion. This might be remedied, if I made known to him the likely cash bonanza that his first communion will bring but I feel that this is hardly in the spirit of the sacrament.
We all went for a drink and the children have just now been whisked off to bed. And tomorrow we’re flying to London. It’s just non-stop excitement.
Feeling the Strain
I got a call from the school at 12.30. I only picked it up at 1.30 when I got back from a meeting. I called them. What was wrong? Daniel had a sore neck and he had spent the past hour with his head on his shoulder. Mr. Waffle and I sped to the school. He seems to have pulled a muscle in his neck. He is much recovered this evening, thank you for asking.
Honestly, if it’s not one thing it’s another.
Obviously
Me: Michael, how would you survive, if there were no corn flakes, what would you live on?
Him: Rice Krispies.
Overheard Outside the Children’s School
Young master of the universe, aged 8 speaking of another pupil, “She can’t be called Anne because Anne is an old woman’s name!”
Did I tell you that I will be 44 on March 10? Anyone know an Anne under 30? I feared as much.
