Her:� Look Mummy, a marmalade.
Me:� A marmalade stain?� Where?
Her
(impatiently): No.
Me: You
know that marmalade is a kind of jam made from oranges?
Her:
(Pause) But in the fountain Mummy, a marmalade.
Me:
(Peering into the fountain) Do you mean a mermaid sweetheart?
Her: YES.
The Hague -Our Favourite City of Vomit
Last time we went to the Hague, the Princess was sick, she vomitted on all of our friends’ sheets. All night. This time there were no sick children. There was one sick mother, but it wasn’t me. And she was recovering from the vomitting bug. And, so far, none of my children appears to have caught it. So all in all, city of vomit is an unfair appellation but give a city a bad name and all that.
We had a lovely time in the Hague over the weekend and the problem with having a lovely time is that it gives you no bloggable material. Everything was lovely (except for the Dutch Mama’s illness and she struggled womanfully to conceal it, so it didn’t overly affect us). Mr. Dutch Mama spent part of the weekend building a bike shed in the front garden and all of the time being tall therefore effectively reinforcing all my stereotypes about Dutch people which was deeply gratifying. The Princess was charmed by the toys available for her delectation and, in a high point for her, got to have a bath with her little hiberno-dutch hosts. The Dutch Mama, illness nothwithstanding, spent all of the weekend with one or other of our babies in her arms thereby freeing us up to read, eat, stop our daughter from savaging our hosts etc.
I was struck by what very good little children our hosts were and though their Mama said that it was really down to them and nothing to do with her parenting, I can’t help wondering whether this is actually the case. And they eat everything. The Princess consumed an apple and a morsel of chicken over the weekend. Oh, and plenty of biscuits. Why is my child a fussy eater? I blame her father, I enjoy that.
And we left with a supply of cute little boy clothes; please admire Daniel in Dutch jumper:
Child Safety
For the
boys:
Our video shop boasts steep stairs. You cannot return videosthrough the postbox, oh no, you must go down the steps, queue and give them to the cashier. As we work our way through The Sopranos (series 1 down, only 6 years behind now), it is becoming an increasing pain returning the videos and our fines are becoming astronomical. We have turned over a new leaf and intend to return the videos the following day. Last Sunday, Mr. Waffle went out with the boys in the double buggy with the express intention of returning the video.
Me: You’ll never get them down the stairs.
Him: Well, I was thinking that if I saw somebody
who looked trustworthy…
Me: Absolutely, you could leave the boys briefly with somebody and nip down..
Him: No, I was thinking I could ask him or her to return the video for me.
Me: Oh right, yeah.
For the Princess:
Me: Tell Daddy about our trip out this afternoon.
Her: Mummy didn’t close the strap on the buggy.
Me: Well, I never close the strap on the buggy now, you’re a big girl.
Him: Gasp.
Her: Yes, but Mummy tipped the buggy up in the air..
Him: Gasp.
Me: Ah yes, ahem, it was an accident.
Her: Yes and I fell on the road.
Me: This is being taken completely out of context.
Her: In front of a bus.
Him: REALLY??
Me: Um, yes, but I mean the bus had stopped to let us cross and we were on the zebra
crossing, it wasn’t exactly thundering down on our helpless child.
Him and Her in unison: But you should have strapped me/her into the buggy.
We’re off to the Hague this weekend to visit the Dutch Mama and her family; I wonder what fresh hazards I can unearth there?
Baby Blues
Daniel is the trendier of our two babies. Michael always seems to be wearing a tracksuit but Daniel tries to make an effort. Already, his grandfather has visions of him propping up the bar of a south Dublin pub in his rugby shirt while sipping on a pint of Heineken. Funnily enough, my vision is a little different, but I digress.
On Friday, we went to visit my friend the orchestra director whom I have mentioned before. She used to advise on, inter alia, policing in Albania, but she chucked it in to do the orchestra thing, unfortunate for the Albanians, but there you go. On inspecting my many children, she asked why Daniel was wearing Cambridge Blues (as she played squash for the University, she is in an excellent position to comment). In response, Daniel wriggled up straighter in his Baby Gap jacket trying to look sporty and dapper while Michael kicked off his socks.
More Bloggers
On my last day of blogging for the Bulletin, I thought I would mention some other bloggers. Yes, I know, it’s all me, me, me, but look, here’s a little break.
If you want to tune into what Belgian mothers are thinking, may I recommend to you the ever delightful Peggy who is a mother of two with a loving husband and a rotten boss. I should mention Thierry who is responsible for the very limited knowledge of Belgian politics which I boast. Never have so many represented so few would appear to be a good summary. He is also a mine of information on things in Brussels from statues to events. I will also plug Nicholas a fellow Irish blogger who will give you all the information you will ever need about distant parts of Europe (ooh, definitions, definitions, but yes, I think Europe) from his blog based in Belgium; I see he was quoted in the Observer at the weekend, so be impressed that he’s blogging for you. And lastly, I am going to give you a link to someone who is not an expat based in Belgium, so perhaps not very relevant to your life here but, you know, still an expat and writer of a brilliant blog on the joys and horrors of living away from home.
I encourage you to check out Heather. Finally, as Friday is St. Patrick’s Day, I should record that the GB supermarket chain is reinforcing negative stereotypes by doling out 40 Happy Days (don’t blame me, I didnÂ’t think up the name) points on
purchases of beer. Happy Saint Patrick’s Day.
Original Sin
The Princess and I went to the Musée des Beaux Arts recently. Oh yes, we grudge no exertion in dredging up material for readers of the Bulletin’s website.
We stopped in front of the Lucas Cranach picture of Adam and Eve and I told her the story which made a significant impression. We went over it a number of times (“tell me again, again, again about Adam and Evil”)
Later in the day she asked me, “Mummy, what are Adam and Evil’s full names?
Me: Adam and Eve and those are their full names.
Her: But their surnames?
Me: Nope, they haven’t got surnames.
Her: Fancy that! [Pause] But normally (too much exposure to the language of Voltaire) we have surnames, Mummy.
A couple of days after this I gave her an apple and she looked daggers at me. “God will be cross with me for eating the apple,” she said indignantly.
Comments
belgianwaffle
on 14 March 2006 at 09:09
Dr TS, you are funny. Do I know you or are you just a random internet person? 
0
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poggle
on 14 March 2006 at 09:12
She is absolutely fantastic – Adam and Evil indeed.
I suspect she might well have chomped her way through the apple of knowledge already. 0
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DoctorTripswitch
on 14 March 2006 at 14:57
Why, is your surname Pratt or something? It’d be one hell of a shot in the dark.. 0
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Friar Tuck
on 14 March 2006 at 18:07
I think the good doctor is on to something! It would explain the word “pratfall”. ���
belgianwaffle
on 21 March 2006 at 20:58
Pog, quite. NO, it is not, Pratt. 0
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DoctorTripswitch
on 22 March 2006 at 12:51
I only ask because I’m a quarter Pratt. 0
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