Mr. Waffle is in Ireland for the weekend at a 20 year school reunion and I am here minding the children alone. Mind numbing terror, I can tell you.
Yesterday we went to the European institutions which had opened their doors to the public in a touching effort to inspire enthusiasm in Europe’s apathetic citizenry. The Committee of the Regions had face painting, a bouncy castle and goodies from various European regions (tea, reindeer meat, orange juice and a bewildering array of sweets)
At 11 we were summoned to a “kick-boxing demonstration” which turned out to be a very nifty demonstration of how to disarm a man who is pointing a gun at one’s head. We left before they moved on to knives. The Princess and Daniel were scared and delighted to go. Michael had to be dragged away kicking and screaming. He likes live performances. This, at least, is what I tell myself. Humour me here. I have two questions for you on this. 1. What kind of assailant in his right mind would go to the Committee of the Regions looking for a target and 2. Do you think face painting and instructions on how to disarm someone who is threating lethal force are a good combination? Answers on a postcard please.
The afternoon was peaceful with the boys napping and herself at a birthday party. Dinner was, frankly, unsuccessful. The boys refused to come to the table and howled for bottles which I stoutly refused to give them. The Princess and I ate our dinner with a woeful Greek chorus going full blast in the background. The Princess, sensing perhaps that her Mama was reaching the end of her tether, was extremely helpful in corralling the boys into their pyjamas and into bed. It’s at times like this that I entertain real hopes that she may become a pleasant grown-up.
Today has been much more relaxed. A trip to the park where an elderly American man with 11 grown-up children advised me to have some more because it doesn’t get any more difficult after 3. I must let Mr. Waffle know. Lunch was delighful, everyone ate and now, as I type, the Princess is off in the park with a babysitter and the boys are naping. Hurrah. And only 5 hours until Mr. Waffle’s return.