Me: Did you meet [the notoriously handsome man]?
Him: Yup.
Me: Well, what did he look like?
Him: Um, tall, brown hair.
Princess: Oh come on Dad, does he have a square jaw, does he have a six pack?
I blame Meg Cabot.
Princess
Was it for this the wild geese spread/The grey wing upon every tide?
Things the Princess no longer believes in: Santa Claus, God, the GAA, the Irish language.
Some Confusion
The Princess and I went to visit St. Patrick’s cathedral at the weekend. Dublin’s best cathedral, since you’re asking.
Famously, Jonathan Swift was Dean of the cathedral. I said to herself, “I’ll give you 50 cents to spend (in the appallingly tacky shop which sits beside the Boyle monument -features statue of the grandfather of chemistry), if you find me a bust of Dean Swift.” Moments later, she came flying back to me, “I haven’t found Dean Swift, but can I have 25 cents for finding Jonathan Swift?”
First World Problem Wednesday
I interrupt my detailed day by day description of our holiday in Kerry to offer the following two problems for your sympathy:
1. Herself had an appointment with the dental hygienist a couple of months ago which, unprecedentedly, we forgot. They phoned us, we grovelled. We re-set a suitable date. It was yesterday. Did I remember to take her? Alas, no. Even though Mr. Waffle’s last words before leaving the country (for work, not anything more sinister) were, “Don’t forget the dentist.” My mortification knows no bounds.
2. Our new childminder who hasn’t started yet but who was perfect because
a) the children liked her;
b) she has lived in Ireland for a long time and is unlikely to leave in the middle of the year;
c) she was doing a course (childcare) in the mornings which allowed her to keep her benefits, if she worked fewer than 20 hours a week so had every incentive to stay
has texted to say that her course hours have changed and she can no longer work for us. I could weep. This, of course, is Nemesis in action as only yesterday I said breezily to the new father up the road, that finding a childminder would be no problem. And, also, I had told everyone how terrific this was going to be. I think that this is the first person who has left before she started. Back to the drawing board.
Oh yes, and Irish bonds have been downgraded to junk. It’s always worrying when your personal credit status is better than your country’s.
Updated to add: Also, we have woodworm.
Another Year Over
The children (one of whom is checking this as I write under the new censorship system) got their school reports this week. They’re all very brilliant, as ever, though I note, thanks to my OCD filing system, slightly less brilliant than last year. Six trophies were given out in school and three of them were claimed by my children, admittedly for perfect attendance rather than genius at Irish (two trophies – these went to other families) but you can’t have everything. [Boastful Mum – signed the ever-vigilant censor WHAT? evil mum!]
The Princess’s teacher commented as follows on her report:
“She has shown great skill in her story writing throughout the year and equally in her oral accounts of these stories.”
A sample of this work is quoted below:
My Pet
My pet’s name is Hodge. She is a cat (or a pig cleverly in disguise). The longest time she was ever away from a can of cat food was ten seconds, she probably died of hunger. She is MEANT to eat dry cat food but I don’t think that the next door neighbour understands the word “cat diet”. She is MEANT to drink water out of her bowl but she prefers Dad’s bedtime glass of water. Note to self, close the toilet lid.
A picture of the subject of this story is below.
Legal fat cat:
[“I’ve been checking the authorities and there’s no law against being 6 kilos” says Hodge]
The schizophrenic nature of this blog under the new regime is proving trying for me. So much so that the Princess may shortly have her own blog. She is pushing for the title “Comments of an 8 year old” to redress the perceived wrongs in this blog. It’s hard to regard this development with any great enthusiasm.
In less controversial news, we are all on summer holidays now – hurrah! Tomorrow we decamp for a week in Kerry. Let us pray for fine weather. Full account to follow when we get back. There’s something to look forward to.
Censored
Herself has insisted that she clear any references I make to her here. Good job that she doesn’t know about the archives yet.