We’ve given up watching the news in the evenings; so, in fact, we’ve given up watching television altogether because all our TV watching consisted of the news and an hour of vain channel hopping thereafter. Now we sit and read and listen to music. We chat. It’s amazing how much of a difference it’s made to my evening. Apart from anything else, it’s delightful to be missing the economic doom news which RTE likes to lead with nightly. I’ll let you know when our resolve cracks.

Daniel is a stereotypical boy [yes, I know, it's only a social construct and probably my fault too] and he likes to show his affection and sympathy by doing things.

When I said I was nervous about attending a meeting in Irish he put a pocket Irish dictionary in my bag [meeting nonetheless horrendous]. When Mr. waffle was sitting downstairs one evening he came down and solemnly gave him his Star Wars annual saying, “This is for you, I know you like Star Wars.” A remark which was as endearing as it was inaccurate. He then earnestly pointed out the best stories and trotted back to bed.

Michael is a bit unclear about the days of the week. One morning he asked, “Is today a mass day?” “No,” I said, “it’s a school day.” “That’s even worse,” he groaned.

Daniel: You’re much older than me.
Me: Yes I am, much.
Daniel: So you will die a long time before me.
Me: Yes.
Daniel (pensively): I’ll miss you when you die. But it won’t be for a long, long time. Unless you were shot. Then it would be soon.

My saintly husband does all the laundry in our house. When he has to go to work early, he puts his clothes on the landing so that he will not wake me by looking for clothes in the dark. He is all virtue.

Recently, I had an early morning appointment at the dentist. I thought (for the first time, to my shame) I would take a leaf from Mr. Waffle’s book and leave my clothes on the landing. Unfortunately, after I had gone to bed, he saw them there and put them in the washing machine. In these circumstances, it is very hard to blame him. And then I had to go and get an injection in my gum. Alas.

Every day, we park around the corner from the school. The boys tumble out of the car and say, “Can I run?” and then hare off up the road. I remember vaguely, the joy of running quickly, of feeling your feet flying over the ground almost like bouncing on air. I wonder, when does that go away?

Michael can finally read properly. He and Daniel spent the evening reading and then swapping comics. Oh the blissful peace.