Michael (pointing to label on freebie toy given out at McDonald’s): What that?
Me: It’s an M.
Him: No, is zips.
Me: I suppose it does look a bit like a zip.
Him: No, zips, sips, tzips.
Me: Chips.
Him (happily): Yes, tzips.
On the mend
I’m sure you will be relieved to hear of my improvement as you must be as sick of this as I am. I did spend a considerable part of last night sitting up on the sofa coughing with a tissue poked up my nose but all my other symptoms have abated. Hurrah. Poor Princess is, however, feeling very unwell. In what must be a new low, Peter Pan went on this morning at 8.55.
This is what happens, if you let your child watch too many Disney, DVDs, please note American accent.
OK, not flu
The doctor came round this morning and examined myself and the Princess. Mr. Waffle didn’t feel we were sick enough to justify this indulgence but this being Belgium, there is a team of doctors out there whose job is to come to your house and they don’t care how sick or well you are as long as you pay their very moderate fees.
He said that I might have flu but they hadn’t seen much flu this year so he was reluctant to diagnose, though it was odd that I had suffered four days of high temperature. He said I should be better soon. I see no sign yet. Still, I wasn’t expecting to, I just need a cert for work once I’ve been off for three days. It would be much cheaper and handier for everyone, if they’d just trust me. Moan, groan, grizzle, whinge.
The Princess really is sick now though and he seemed quite impressed by her illness. Shall we say a full novena that the boys don’t succumb?
I know it’s not the flu
Because the one time I had the flu, I could barely struggle out of bed. But I have got a nasty cold.
Yesterday, I spent all day in bed, being poked in the eyeball from time to time by a very bored Princess. Our cleaner kindly agreed to stay all day and keep an eye on herself but I think she (the Princess and probably also the cleaner) has now decided that there is such a thing as too much television. She went off to school today with a spring in her step.
Our cleaner is a very nice woman from the Eastern part of Poland and she disapproves profoundly of my decision to work. Yesterday, she said to the Princess – isn’t it nice to have Mama at home instead of her going off to work? The Princess was gobsmacked; here she was having the most boring day of her life and she was supposed to like it. I was mildly gratified.
And in other whinging about the help news (is there anything more irritating, than someone who does that?) our childminder does not, like me, believe in always telling children the truth. I like to think that it builds up their soft skills. The other day, Daniel, expressed a desire to see the childminder’s daughter C. It was 6 o’clock in the evening, the childminder was just leaving, she said “you want to come with me, you want to see C?”. Daniel’s little face lit up. Why would she torture him this way? As I say, building up their soft skills.
Finally, the Princess has a half day at school today, I rang L’s mother who lives around the corner to ask her, if she could take the Princess this afternoon, in view of my enfeebled state. She croaked on the other end of the phone – no, I have the flu and so has my husband and my two year old. Given that she was just starting to feel ill when she was around here on Friday afternoon, perhaps it is the flu after all.
Back to bed, while I still can.
Sick as a dog
I have a rotten cold: achy limbs, runny nose, hacking cough, temperature, dizziness and general misery.
I spent last night alternatively roasting and shivering. The Princess arrived in to our bed at 1.00 in the morning with the same symptoms. I said we would stay home together today. Is she now sick? Nope. She seems to be the picture of health and is sitting up watching “Mary Poppins” while I am about to haul myself back to bed.
Confusion
Michael (combing his hair and looking at himself in the mirror): Michael est belle.
Mr. Waffle: Michael est beau.
Michael (crossly): Michael est BELLE.
Mr. Waffle: Ta soeur est belle, tu es beau.
Michael (furious): MICHAEL EST BELLE.
Mr. Waffle: Michael est belle.
