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.
Changing of the Guard
Florence, our childminder, is leaving us for a full time job. Alas. M starts when the children go back to school (possibly tomorrow?). I hope that they like her. Mr. Waffle rang her reference. He spoke to the father of the children she had babysat. “Did the children like her?” I asked anxiously. “Apparently,” said Mr. Waffle “they respected her”. Not exactly a ringing endorsement then.
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?
Hodge and Herself
The Princess loves Hodge.
She spends her time poking Hodge in the eye and putting her hand, daringly, in the cat’s mouth.
When she is not carrying her around.
I tell her to put the cat down and leave her alone. But, surprisingly, the cat sticks to her like a limpet.
Still, Hodge sometimes likes to get a good tree between her and us.
Also she sleeps with a gun under her pillow, just in case.
Incidentally, did I mention that Mr. Waffle finds himself speaking in French to the cat which is hilarious.
Is it just me?
Advertisement text:
“You could WIN an amazing Romantic Valentines Rugby Weekend for 2 to Paris!”
Leaving aside the difficulties with random capitalisation and the apostrophe, is there anyone else out there who thinks that the words rugby and romantic are not natural bedfellows?
The Wireless
My mother always calls the radio “the wireless” and now technology has caught up with her again. My loving husband got me a brilliant radio for Christmas. It does normal, it does digital and it does internet radio. It’s fantastic. No more cricket on radio 4 for me. Manic cackle. I can choose stations by country, by genre, by whatever you are having yourself really. I listened to a US comedy channel, an NPR end of year special and Bel RTL and I didn’t bother with Money Box Live (if you have to ask, lucky you).
Now, internet, my friend, do you have a favourite radio station – local, regional, national – something you would recommend to someone with a brand new Roberts radio. If yes, please, please tell me what it is and I will tune in.
