When Mr.
Waffle was 7, his parents moved to Venezuela for six months. I was looking at the pictures from Venezuela with him and his mother one day and
there was one of him in a rather twee t-shirt featuring a little boy and girl
fishing together. “Oh yes” he said
bitterly “my ‘gone wishing’ t-shirt”. On closer inspection, the words “gone wishing”
did indeed feature in faded letters over the picture on the t-shirt. It appeared that because they were only in Venezuela for 6 months, his mother had not
considered it necessary to get all the kit required by the school and instead
of the regulation gym t-shirt, she had issued Mr. Waffle with the “gone
wishing” number. This had obviously
scarred his sensitive soul.
Please bear
this incident in mind when considering the following piece of dialogue.
Me: It says on her school list that we
have to get her a “tablier”, what the hell is that?
Him: Kind
of a smock thing, but we can just cut down one of my old shirts.
Me: But it gives the name of the shop where we
can buy themÂ…
Him: But thereÂ’s no need, one of my old shirts
will be fine.
Me: But she
wonÂ’t have a smock like the other children.
Him: But,
for heavenÂ’s sake, it doesnÂ’t matter, itÂ’s only to keep her clothes clean when
sheÂ’s painting.
You will be delighted to hear that, in defiance of my husband, I went to the authorised supplier and
purchased a tablier, pictured below.
Seriously, would a cut down shirt have done? Please note
the pencils and paintbrushes embroidered above the pocket before giving
your answer.
on 05 December 2005 at 11:00
Sweetie(s) given
Friar Tuck
on 05 December 2005 at 15:42
LondonMom
on 05 December 2005 at 21:36
on 06 December 2005 at 15:21
UC, you have a very cruel streak and you too Kristin.
Ta, FT, LondonM.
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on 06 December 2005 at 20:20
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on 07 December 2005 at 09:28
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on 08 December 2005 at 15:08
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on 08 December 2005 at 21:57
I remember the shame all too well
A. Man.
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on 09 December 2005 at 08:16
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https://www.belgianwaffle.net/2005/12/481/
I took the Princess to the supermarket. I bought a Kinder
Surprise thingy containing Chicken Little to encourage good
behaviour (if you don’t know who he is, just be glad). Not only did this not work, it ensured that I spent
much time lying down in the supermarket aisles trying to rescue the
wretched chicken from under shelves where he was regularly flung by her
majesty in moments of petulance. And she had to take off her
boots. And NOTHING was going right and, by gum, everyone in the
supermarket had to know it.
We bought our Christmas tree in the supermarket car park. The
romance, the glamour. The Princess was mildly
mollified. As I held her hand and tried to stuff the tree into
the car a man came along and asked whether I could spare him any
change. Then it started to rain. We went home.
The Princess was very keen to decorate the tree. So keen that she
lay on the floor weeping until we allowed her to attach baubles.
And then they wouldn’t go on properly. More weeping.
Meanwhile her father was following her around with spoonfuls of fish
which she had refused to eat earlier. This was not the happy tree
decorating environment I had been hoping for. And now all our
ornaments smell of fish.
Her father bundled her off for her nap while I considered lying on the
floor and weeping. She howled hysterically for 20 minutes.
In between sobs she screamed “I want to decorate the tree”. Just
under an hour later when she woke up, still cranky, her first words
were “I want to decorate the tree”. So we let her decorate the
wretched tree.
Then we went into the kitchen where she threw herself on the floor and
wept (this is getting repetitive for you??). “What’s wrong
sweetheart?” I asked.
Her: I (hysterical sob) wanted to put the (hysterical sob) soap in the dishwasher.
Me: But, darling, it’s too late the dishwasher is already running, you can do it next time.
Her: Waah, waah (throws herself on floor).
Then she went over to Daniel and casually grabbed him by the ankle.
Me: What are you doing, my angel?
Her (insouciantly
and this was the only insouciance of the day):
I’m hurting Daniel.
Me (appalled): Stop it!
Her (indignantly): But I want to hurt him!
Mr. Waffle comes in to find her crying inconsolably on the floor.
Him (in a vain effort to console, you will recall that she was inconsolable): What’s wrong my little flea?*
Her (in tones of outrage between sobs) I wanted to hurt Daniel and Mummy say “No!”
To try to improve everyone’s mood and the boys’ safety, I took her
out. We went to the Grand Place and arrived simultaneously with
Saint Nicolas, two donkeys, a brass band, 4 giants and a number of
people on stilts all of whom were giving out sweets. We got our
first smile of the day. Then we went for ice cream and the nice
waiter gave her chocolate. All was going swimmingly. On the
way home we looked at the Christmas lights in the Sablon and I said
“Instead of taking the tunnel let’s go down the Avenue Louise and look
at the lights there”. With a return to earlier form, she said
huffily that she didn’t want to and I fail to see why I couldn’t have
let well enough alone and taken the tunnel and zoomed home. As we
inched down Avenue Louise at funereal speed, Madam announced “I want to
do a wee”. “Can you wait, sweetheart?”. “No, I do a wee in
my car seat”. And the lights were rubbish too.
*Direct translation from the French; they have odd terms of endearment.
on 04 December 2005 at 17:55
Sweetie(s) given
Friar Tuck
on 04 December 2005 at 19:09
Friar Tuck
on 04 December 2005 at 19:13
on 04 December 2005 at 19:43
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on 04 December 2005 at 21:05
on 04 December 2005 at 22:16
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on 04 December 2005 at 23:29
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The screams, the screams i heard the other night when i had the temerity to flush the toilet after the Wee One had finished using it, rather than allow her to do it herself.
‘But I DO IT, MOMMY! I DO IT!’ This also applies to pressing the button to open/close the garage, get clothing out of the drawer, hmmm. Pretty much anything, come to think of it. I wish you strength.
on 05 December 2005 at 10:33
Pog, nah, we’re just guilt ridden modern parents “she’s having a tantrum, it must be our fault..”
Negrito, I know and lovely pictures too!
GPM, well yes, I was reassured by your recent blog on your friend’s child,indicating that she was a demon at 2 and an angel at 3. Hope springs eternal etc.
Minks, so were the other shoppers.
FT, that seems wise and thank you for respecting our whacky European spelling.
GOTG, you are most kind but not as kind as the fab Heather who gave me 2 sweeties. Ta HJB.
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on 09 December 2005 at 22:42
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on 11 December 2005 at 13:49
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on 12 December 2005 at 14:18
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on 14 December 2005 at 09:10
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on 04 December 2005 at 10:28
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Friar Tuck
on 04 December 2005 at 19:06
on 05 December 2005 at 06:57
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on 05 December 2005 at 10:27
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https://www.belgianwaffle.net/2005/12/478/
An unwelcome development
The Princess has added blackmail to her accomplishments. This week’s favourite phrase is “put down Michael/Daniel or I’ll be bold”. Non-Irish readers please note that she is not threatening us with bravery; Irish people say bold while the rest of the English speaking world opts for naughty.
Comments
on 30 November 2005 at 16:31
I’m sure it is just a phase. A fifteen-year phase, but a phase nonetheless…. ���
on 30 November 2005 at 21:07
That’s a very bright little girl. I wonder where she gets it from? ���
(Homepage)
on 01 December 2005 at 10:53
Has nothing to do with the rest.
I was watching cartoons very early this morning with son nr. 2 and saw that one was produced by a company called Belgian Waffles.
Watch out for copyrights! ���
on 01 December 2005 at 15:24
Good Lord – what sort of wonderful parenting techniques are you using?? Such a talent will serve her marvellously in future life…
(ps – is ‘bold’ only an Irish thing?) 
0
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on 01 December 2005 at 18:04
I’m going to make this blog off-limits to our daughter – I fear the Princess will become her role model. 1
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on 02 December 2005 at 16:07
Kristin, feel free..
FT, have a heart.
LJ, blackmailing skills? From her father..
Peggy, I was here first. Sorry about your adsl by the way…that’s what happens if you refuse to bow to the will of Mr. Gates.
Loc, yes and yes. Are you back?
KE, ta for sweetie, trust all is well with the katelet.
Minks, yeah, if she’s not throttled by one of the boys when they gain control of their limbs. 0
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on 05 December 2005 at 10:26
You see how useful this blog is? Now you are armed with local lingo for your next trip to Ireland. 0
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We picked
up the boys’ passports yesterday. Apparently we are the proud parents of
Michael and Danile. How hard is it to spell Daniel? Pshaw.
Friar Tuck
on 29 November 2005 at 16:34
ps thanks mrs waffle for stopping by my blog. 😉
on 29 November 2005 at 22:34
Should’a gone with Cha and Mia 🙂
And thanks for the IslayGirl relay — I’m genuinely surprised and a bit flattered.
Back Early 2006 — all going well; cross my digital heart…
Sweetie(s) given
on 29 November 2005 at 23:58
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on 02 December 2005 at 16:02
JD, yay, so pleased that you’ll be back! And a sweetie. Ta.
Kristin, regularly do so. Note to self, must update favourites list.
FT, humph.
Minks, haven’t slept since!
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on 29 November 2005 at 15:49
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on 29 November 2005 at 15:51
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on 30 November 2005 at 10:51
(
Comment Modified)
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Friar Tuck
on 30 November 2005 at 16:27
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