Princess: Everyone in my school wants to know whether I support Manchester United or Liverpool. What should I say?
Me: For personal reasons, I’d prefer if you said that you supported Preston North End. Would you do that?
Her: No.
Princess
Out of the Mouths of Babes and Sucklings
Princess: Daddy, how do cheques work?
Him: Well, essentially, it’s a promise to pay. A long time ago, money was made of metal which was the actual value of the coin; but that was awkward to carry over long distances. So, they gave a piece of paper with a promise to pay and people trusted other people to pay out on that and that’s how banks came about.
Her (dubiously): People trusted the banks?
Him: Yes!
Her: But people trusted the Titantic not to sink.
Him: Well, funny you should mention that…
Oh frabjous day
When the Princess was 4, on Wednesday afternoons I used to haul her to a private pool for very expensive private one-to-one swimming lessons. She looked technically beautiful as she went along – grenouille, avion, flèche – but, crucially, she wasn’t actually able to swim. She resisted lessons after that initial foray. All last summer I thought that she would get the hang of it but she just didn’t. And then, today when I had no hopes of anything but that nobody would drown in the pool, she started to swim. Just like that. I am pleased.
For Theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven*. Allegedly.
An old friend of mine was in Dublin briefly. I met him on Sunday. We went for a walk in the Park which was pleasant. Alas, it did not stop there. Because he is a brother (religious, not related) and he expressed an interest, I thought that I would have him to dinner and we would eat at the same time as the children. I would never do this to anyone else. I think, I felt because he was in a religious order, he needed more exposure to small children and he would enjoy it. WHY would I think that?
So, it started off auspiciously enough, the boys played boardgames with the guest, the Princess read her book and ignored him but was not actively disagreeable. After a particularly contentious game of snap/beggar my neighbour when Daniel swept the cards from the table and collapsed sobbing and red faced on the floor, Mr. Waffle thought it would be better to turn on the television to calm the troops. Because we live in one room, this meant that my friend had to watch Elmo too. He was polite, but I suspect that this was not what he was used to in the lofty circles in which he moves in Rome. Certainly, the Princess shushing him was toe-curlingly ghastly.
Dinner was just dreadful. The children were all quite excited by the guest. They manifested this by shouting over him. Daniel, for reasons that are not entirely clear to me, spent much of dinner leaning back on his chair and howling like a wolf. Earlier in the day they had seen this video and it made a profound impression on them. The first time they performed it, it was mildly amusing but by the 25th any entertainment value had pretty much evaporated.
Our friend was, as becomes an American and a religious man, polite about his welcome and saintly with our children. You can read his, frankly, untruthful account of his visit here. In fact, the only truthful thing he said is what he said when we apologised for the children’s “high-spirited” behaviour: “Don’t worry, it strengthens my vocation.”
I tried to upload to youtube a taster of what he faced. It wouldn’t work. You would have to imagine it over dinner and louder. Much louder. And I couldn’t quite face showing you where the paint has been knocked off the wall behind the couch by the children standing on their heads and kicking it.
*For the religious: Mark 10:14, not Matthew 5:3 or Matthew 5:10 although, if the matter were put to them, the children themselves would unhesitatngly plump for Matthew 5:10.
Architecture 101
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I See Dead People
The Town Mouse delegation, being tourists, had been to visit the National Museum and spoke animatedly, if not enthusiastically, about the bog bodies. I think the words TM used were, “Someone should give those bodies a decent burial.”
Not having set foot inside the door of the National Museum since 2008, I decided it was time to bring the children to investigate. I keyed them up the night before, I made popcorn and gave it to them sitting on steps adjacent to the Masonic Hall before going in so that they would not be hungry. We passed through the shop safely and saw two bog bodies which were holding everyone’s interest nicely before Daniel announced that he needed to go to the toilet. This inevitably involved passing the cafe and after that, all was doom and gloom. Michael wept for crisps and did not stop until we got back to the car. The nice Garda who tried to cheer him up was treated with tears for her pains. The Princess ran off twice in a huff.
Culture is very tiring, I find.
