Back when the Swedes joined the EU in the mid 90s, Mr. Waffle remembers a senior Italian Commission official commenting, “How can you negotiate with these people? They say exactly what they mean.”
Raifteirà Prepares to Hand Over the Reins
Herself has won a poetry prize. She wrote a 1916 poem in Irish for a school competition and the teacher asked me if she could submit it to a national competition. I said that she could and herself won second prize. She was very pleased. There was an awards ceremony in Killarney last week but it was beyond us to get her down there; as she said dolefully, “This is what happens to the children of working parents.” However, they are going to send the cheque for €100 in the post. As I pointed out to her, I am sure that actual Irish language poets would regard that as a substantial part of their annual income. I am perhaps stereotyping the profession of Irish language poet as one that is not particularly well remunerated.
The boys are consumed with envy.
Surprising
2016 is the year that keeps on giving in this regard, is it not?
I was away last night for work so I woke in my hotel room to the news that Donald Trump is to be president of the US. It seems extraordinary that the people who gave us 8 years of Barack Obama have now given us Donald Trump.
In other current affairs news, the Princess, who confidently expected her teachers to be on strike for weeks, was gutted when we got a text message at 9.30 last night saying that the school was reopening today. She is still readjusting to the new reality. Aren’t we all?
Stereotyping
My friend from Belfast was telling me about his friend also from Belfast who has moved into the top floor of an old Georgian house. His friend has loads of books and the movers found getting the stuff up to the top floor very trying. Towards the end of the day, the man who was moving house, found one of the movers lying on the floor saying, “I can’t take it anymore, don’t make me move another box.” “Typical Belfast labourer,” snorted my friend.
Somehow, if you’d asked me what a typical Belfast labourer was like, I would have said words like, tough and hardworking. I don’t think my expectation would be that they would lie down on the floor and give up. It just goes to show that stereotyping is misleading.
Daniel at 11
As Daniel said, I am finally, finally getting around to his birthday post. Better late than never.
He has started reading this blog with mild interest; he commented to Michael as he read, “I didn’t know Mummy was funny.” I suppose I can take that how I like. He was a bit offended to see that I said that he had a low pain threshold so I am honour bound to point out that on the very day of his birthday he got a lash of a hurley on his thumb and the coaches thought it might be broken. Daniel stoically trained through the pain. It was not, in fact, broken but it did swell up in an alarming way for a couple of days. He is now recovered, you will be happy to hear.
Daniel is definitely our sportiest child. He trains twice a week and has matches at the weekend. He usually has some kind of injury. In addition to the thumb incident above, he had to hop around the school for a couple of days the other week due to a toe injury; I think he might have some kind of floating body in his knee and as I write he has a scalded tongue (non-sport related but there is always something). He is nonetheless undeterred from his sporting endeavours and throws his heart into every match and every practice.
I am unable to find any record of his constant sportiness but have a serious shot of him as Michael Collins:
He likes to read – Horrible Histories, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, things about Arsenal. He also likes to watch youtube videos. He is a big fan of FIFA video games narrated on youtube. He also loves to read poetry and following the cull by his sister has ended up with quite a number of lovely books which I often see him flicking through.
I took the children to a performance called “Katie’s Party” during the theatre festival. It was a one woman show for children exploring the theme of moving from primary school to secondary school. Daniel really enjoyed it but he is also very nervous about the prospect of moving to secondary school. This is probably not helped by seeing his sister getting through mountains of homework and being a bit of a perfectionist himself. I think I should try to get him to the theatre a bit more as he really seems to be entranced by the couple of things he has seen.
He gets on well with his brother but feels that he has to mind him. Mr. Waffle often says that it is like we have two eldest children and even though Daniel is only 20 minutes older than his brother, he definitely acts like he is a good year older. This is helped by the fact that he is considerably taller and broader. I sometimes think that it is a bit unfair on him that we expect so much from him but he is very responsible and often volunteers for tasks.
He is utterly reliable and very helpful. If you ask him to do something, he will generally get it done. On Saturday mornings he can’t play on the x-box until he has unloaded the dishwasher and, faithfully, every Saturday morning, he does it. As he is usually first up, it falls to him. Just like his father, he is an early bird and he is often up early in the morning. I hardly ever need to wake him up in the morning.
He finds his sister’s access to electronic devices very galling. Now that she has a phone and an iPad, he is on the verge of expiry from envy. He has a strong sense of injustice and this drives him crazy. He also points to her trips to London and Paris with some bitterness and although we have said that these things will come when he is bigger, I don’t think that he is convinced by us. Yet sometimes, notwithstanding everything, he and his sister can be very friendly; they share lots of interests and I hear them laughing uproariously together.
Daniel is very musical. This fills me with guilt. Have I repaired the piano? I have not. He has basically taught himself to play the tin whistle and I hear him picking out tunes on that most unforgiving of instruments with considerable success and no support from his parents. He is shy though and unwilling to play or sing outside the immediate family. He sings in the church choir and has been doing increasing numbers of readings and prayers of the faithful which he does very well and very clearly. He tells me that he is nervous but he does not sound it.
His French comprehension is still pretty good and he really makes an effort to speak as well. He needs some lessons, I think but he is a bit committed with his sporting engagements and he said to me, “It’s either music or French but I can’t do both.” I think he might be right.
He really enjoys quizzes and answering questions but it can be a challenge at home as his sister tends to cut across him. At school though, he is really coming into his own. His table is winning general knowledge stars and he is loving it. He is fascinated by facts and it is standing him in good stead. Generally, I think he enjoys school and he is loving his teacher for this year who is excellent. He has had a really good run of teachers in primary school with one notable exception. I think he’s probably easy to teach: obliging, clever, hardworking. I understand that he helps other children in the class, if they are lost and is very patient at explaining.
He can get distracted from doing his homework and let it drift on for hours. This drives him bananas but he seems unable to stop himself staring at the ceiling unless we prod him. He gets this from me. Another thing that he gets from me is that he is tidy. He is the only one of my children who is naturally reasonably tidy. He and I spent a happy morning organising his bookshelves by author a couple of weeks ago. It’s holding up wonderfully and every time I go into his room, it fills me with mild happiness – him too, I think.
When I take him out on his own without the other two, he really blossoms. He loves the attention and is so engaging and loves the mildest treat. Even when I took himself and Michael to the Sugar Loaf the other day – not his idea of an amazing treat – Michael ran on ahead and he and I walked down together and he was delighted and we had a lovely chat.
I can see the outlines of the adult he will someday become, he is in many ways a very mature 11 year old. He is moving firmly towards adolescent and a small part of me misses the adorable little boy which he is placing determinedly behind him. I suppose that this is what parenthood is all about and I am very proud of him and and how he is growing up. Seeing him change reminds me vividly how lucky I am to be his mother and how much he has grown in the last 11 years.
Michael at 11
A belated update on my younger son who was 11 on September 27, so not quite two months ago yet.
Michael has settled firmly down into the niche of youngest, adorable child. I understand that as he snuggles up to me, he often mouths “brownie points” at his brother and sister but I don’t care and, what’s more, he knows I don’t care. I find him very easy to be with and easy to get on with; obliging, pleasant and entertaining.
He is a total home bird and knows no greater happiness than to be left to hang around the house all day and not be forced out on some outing. Once he gets out he can be cheerful enough but it is the leaving home that he finds tiresome.
Picture from a particularly unsuccessful expedition which his parents forced him to go out on:
He has become obsessed with complex board games which go on for days and are utterly baffling to me. If let, he would spend all his time watching young men narrating how to play board games on youtube.
He still loves to read and his bedroom, the smallest in the house, as he will tell you with some bitterness, is crammed to the rafters with books from all ages.
He is as fond still as looking at old picture books as of reading the latest Percy Jackson or the telephone book sized Codex of some game involving 24 dice and innumerable expensive plastic figurines.
I caught him reading in the dark the other night. “You’ll ruin your eyesight,” I said. “That’s a myth actually,” he replied with all the dignity of someone caught reading when he should be sound asleep. His sister’s bedroom is strictly off limits to everyone in the house and boy do we know it. Michael has been caught sneaking in there to get out some of her more choice books. “Why don’t you wait until she gets home from school and ask to borrow them?” I ask despairingly as herself harangues me about her privacy. “Meh, can’t wait,” he says blithely. After a particularly painful recent discussion with his sister, I am hopeful that he will ask in future.
Michael is a born performer. They had a contest in school involving developing a pretend radio station interview and he won hands down. His teacher tells me that the other children chant his name and beg for him to do the reading out loud. I asked Michael about this and he said, “Now you know why I don’t like it when there are so many characters in a book. It’s exhausting to do different voices for all of them.”
He still loves scouts. This September he got made a seconder (a sixer is head of a little troop and a seconder is second in command). He was confident that this would come to pass but none the less very pleased when it actually did. He steadily refuses to join other clubs or societies, although his secondary school has a games club where his sister is already a member and I imagine he will join there when he starts next year, much to her chagrin.
He loves history and has finished off Civilisation V (history in the largest sense), is a massive fan of Horrible Histories and recently has spent a great deal of time looking at alternative histories on youtube. On the way home from his grandparents this evening we had a vigourous family discussion on what would have happened to the Home Rule Bill, if World War I had in fact been over by Christmas. Let me summarise for you, we don’t know, but everyone got very heated all the same. It beat our conversation about the Kardashians on the way out. Mildly amusing comment from Michael: “They’re real? That explains so much.”
He continues to be the peacemaker although his brother and sister maintain that he uses his charm to get away with murder and that they do much more around the house which does not entirely contribute to peace in our little household.
He has a wonderful teacher this year and is really enjoying school which is terrific.
He still does not love sports but they had a recent competition with another school and he got a medal for being best boy on his team and he was really filled with pride and delight and we were thrilled for him. He is a pretty competent cyclist now and we can cycle into town without me nearly losing my life.
He quite took to pool (or possibly snooker, I am no expert here) but I am not sure that counts as a sport.
He is sentimental and refuses to part with anything. In particular, he refuses to part with any of his old clothes and as he is growing many of his trousers are flapping around his ankles and lots of his tops reach only just below his elbows. It is economical but I would willingly pay for new clothes, if he would wear them. Michael has appeared over my shoulder and said, “I would, if they were not itchy.” It’s just so hard to determine what will be deemed itchy. Also, he continues to be extremely skinny and as he grows taller it’s hard to find trousers that can be sufficiently tightened at the waist and are sufficiently long in the leg. Of late, he has stopped wearing the hood of his hoodie up every minute of the day. As this has been replaced by wearing his coat with the hood up until dinner time, I am not sure it can be counted as an improvement.
This is the only pair of trousers aside from his school and scout uniforms which now fit Michael. Unfortunately, they have to be washed from time to time.
He is soft-hearted. He is always kind and gentle with small children and very patient. We were watching the youtube clip on Jimmy Kimmel of parents telling children that they had eaten their Halloween sweets and Michael walked away because he didn’t want to watch as it was mean. Which, to be honest, it is. Though, kind of funny, if you are heartless, which Michael definitely is not.
He gets on well with his brother and sister and though they can definitely find him exasperating, they are not entirely immune to his charm. Also, he needs them for his board games as his parents are a dead loss. He continues to enjoy cards but would prefer if we went for slightly more challenging games that snap/beggar-my-neighbour. Sometimes, when I am feeling strong, we play 110 but I need to be in the whole of my health.
He continues to eat almost nothing. I’ve almost past trying at this stage. Thank God for cornflakes, milk, pizza, chips, ham, cod, yorkshire pudding and eggs. And I would like to apologise now about over-fishing.
Picture of Michael looking like a Victorian starving chimney sweep’s boy.
We walk into school most mornings with his brother. I love it when the three of us walk in together and I am all the more conscious of it because this is our last year as next year they start in secondary school. I will miss our walks very much. I always give Michael credit for starting us walking in in the first place due to his concerns about the environment (which still continue). It has been lovely for us all, I think.
As he gets older, he is less of a daredevil. Although he continues to be a demon on the bumpers and super speedy on ziplines, I can now let him cross the road with confidence which is a huge relief to me and to him.
All in all, he is wonderful to be with: kind, caring, funny and gentle. It is lovely to watch him growing up.
