belgianwaffle

Princess

Early promise


Posted in: Family, Princess

The other morning the Princess was having her porridge and playing with her letters. We put them all into their slots but, horror, the z was missing. “Mummy, mummy, missing z!” “Well, never mind, sweetie, it’ll turn up.” Sad shake of the royal head “Z lost mummy, find the z mummy.” Off we went, z-less, to the creche and work respectively and, on our return home the Princess skipped off to her toys. Almost immediately she ran over to me shrieking in delight “Mummy, I find the missing z” and waving the lost z enthusiastically. Our genius.

In other news, my parents still have no heating. The fifth man to look at the parental boiler blew it up. Also the house is elderly and the wiring is not all it might be, so my mother was watching the telly the other night with the electric and blow heaters on and a hot water bottle at her feet and she suddenly found herself plunged into darkness and had to wrestle with fuses. Weather shows no sign of clearing either. Much grimness in Cork. And finally, thank you to my greatest fan who emailed me the following
“You haven’t had a blog entry since 23 February. Is all ok. Not like you. Your
public is v. disappointed.”I feel loved!
Comments
dmtson 06 March 2005 at 19:40Now I feel mean for not bothering to send you an email.
Do you think the princess stole the letter Z from the creche? No…I’m sorry – I shouldn’t apply my dirty low-down standards to other peoples’ children.
belgianwaffle on 10 March 2005 at 09:42HJB, FT, you clearly just don’t care as much as my other friend. Yes, HJB, it is quite likely that she stole the Z from the creche…

Round-up


Posted in: Family, Princess, Reading etc.

Sitting in the back of the car with her menagerie, the Princess picks up a soft toy and holds it up to the window “Look, Sheepsie, a blue van”.  Anxious to ensure fairness in all things, she then picks up a bear and presses its little nose to the window “Oh, Isabelle, a tram, look, look”. Finally, she waves doggy in the direction of the window “Doggy, see, lots of cars”

This email from a friend:
Thought of you the other day when reading about Noel Coward – he met a friend at a party – “we don’t have time to talk about each of us so we’ll just talk about me”

My parents’ heating has died.  They have been cold for a week. It is snowing in Cork. Four men have already shaken their heads at
the parental boiler. They’re getting a blow heater and a draft proof front door tomorrow.

Comments
jackdalton

on 25 February 2005 at 17:11

No problem there on equality and distributed love!
Your friend is cruel.
Poor parents. A heating system that doesn’t is among life’s greatest find something to kick incentives.

belgianwaffle

on 05 March 2005 at 15:03

Well, pog, she has time.
JD, well, yes, cruel but not, I confess, entirely inaccurate.

Leading by example


Posted in: Princess

Princess: Bye bye Mummy (waves and walks to door).
Me: Bye, bye sweetheart.
Princess: See you soon Mummy (shuts door – glass – and waves from far side).
Me: See you soon, honey.
Princess: Nice day Mummy.
Me: Thank you, sweetheart.
Princess: Bye bye
Me: Um, where are you going darling?
Princess : Work.

Comments
princessfairytoes

on 12 February 2005 at 21:47

arhh how sweet

Friar Tuck

on 12 February 2005 at 23:44

Not surprising given the age they start school there.

belgianwaffle

on 13 February 2005 at 14:17

Eh, I don’t think so Jack. Thanks PFT. FT, well, yes, I suppose so.

poggle

on 14 February 2005 at 12:13

Contributing to the household budget already … Is that legal?

belgianwaffle

on 16 February 2005 at 21:34

Pog, evil snigger from here.

They start school at 2 and a half in Belgium


Posted in: Belgium, Princess

Me: Hello, I’m wondering about how to register my little girl for school.
Snooty lady: Was she born in 2005?
Me: What, in the last month?!
Snooty lady (coldly): Yes, in 2005 as we have a couple of spaces left
for the younger siblings of older children in our school. Does
your daughter have an older sibling in the school?
Me: No.
Snooty lady (in tones of deep satisfaction): Well, I’m sorry, you’ll have to try elsewhere.

I’m beginning to get nervous. Still, it’s not like England where a (catholic) friend of Mr. Waffle’s got involved with her local protestant church with a view to getting her children into the good school attached to it. She is chair of the flower arranging committee. But they didn’t accept her child for the school. And she’s still stuck on the flower arranging committee.  And I bet she’s no good at either because, let’s face it, flower arranging is a protestant virtue.

Comments
belgianwaffle

on 12 February 2005 at 21:25

Hmm, but suppose she screams or is otherwise unadorable?

princessfairytoes

on 12 February 2005 at 21:47

noooooooooo she’s tooo small to be given over to the education system

Friar Tuck

on 12 February 2005 at 23:42

That’s odd. The Belgians don’t seem noticably more educated than other Europeans to me.

belgianwaffle

on 16 February 2005 at 21:36

Ah, but they are.

Working across enemy lines


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess
Me: So the wolf ends up in the little pig’s pot and burns his tail, ow, ow.
Princess:  Poor wolf, kiss the tail (kisses picture).  Better?
Mr. Waffle:  But, it’s a bad wolf, it tried to eat the little pig.
Princess (reprovingly):  Sick tail, kiss it better.
Mr. Waffle (resignedly):  I see that that our daughter believes in the Red Cross principles: we care for all the injured, regardless of the rights and wrongs of the conflict.
Princess:  Tail, better?
Comments
Mikeachim

on 08 February 2005 at 20:17

The way I see it, the tail isn’t the one at fault. It’s just doing its job.
Kudos to Princess for negotiating this tricky moral minefield without breaking a sweat.
🙂

Friar Tuck

on 08 February 2005 at 23:26

We may have a place for Princess. Please complete the attached documents and return them to me. We’ll be calling for an interview later.

poggle

on 09 February 2005 at 11:46

Wow FT – Princess is going to be the next pope?

Friar Tuck

on 09 February 2005 at 17:44

Well, pog, Princess has several things in common with the current occupant of the throne. She occasionally drools, wears a diaper, and furthermore**ZAP**
*sizzle*

poggle

on 09 February 2005 at 17:54

Don’t you worry. Princess will save you from the nasty man by kissing it better.

belgianwaffle

on 09 February 2005 at 19:57

Menace, Mike, you are funny. FT, pog really, she’s going to be the next pope? And by the by, FT that’s a nappy. Princess will, of course, save you.

Friar Tuck

on 10 February 2005 at 04:02

Of course it is, dear.

Compare and contrast


Posted in: Princess

7.00  Got up
7.10  Gave the Princess her breakfast
7.30  Read “That’s not my Tractor” and “We’re going on a Bear Hunt” with the Princess
7.45  Looked at photographs with the Princess
8.00  Breakfasted with spouse while keeping a wary eye on the Princess
8.20  Put on washing machine (again)
8.30  Back to bed for nap
9.00  Awake exhausted and crawl to shower
9.30  Dressed and ready to face the day, depart for park
9.45  Arrive park and assist the Princess in extracting maximum enjoyment from swings and slides while getting mud on off white coat.  Split Princess’s lip while assisting her on to see-saw.  Deal with understandable profound upset. Get blood on (freshly dry cleaned) very off white coat. Deeply regret wearing off white coat.
10.15  Meet a number of friends and acquaintances and assorted offspring in park
11.00  Go home.
11.15  Entertain friend and offspring with tea and croissants
12.00  Attend mass
13.00  Return home.

What I used to do on Sunday mornings before my daughter was born

7.00 – 13.00  Sleep.
13.00   Get up.

Spent her nap time recovering from the ardours of the morning and discovering from the Observer what ailments she is likely to
have.  This afternoon was magic though.  We went to the toy museum. It’s a fabulous place.  Loads of toys (obviously) which children can actually play with including a little kitchen, scooters, train sets, cars, buses, trams, rocking horses and a small theatre.  It reminded me of the toy theatres that my father bought us when we were little and I have grown all nostalgic and intend to torture my mother to check whether they are still in the attic.

Comments

belgianwaffle

on 09 February 2005 at 21:31

Oh go away. Well, 9.30, probably time for me to head to bed. Yawn.