Princess

We went to the Hague last weekend to stay with an old friend of Mr. Waffle’s.  The Dutch Mama is originally from North Cork, but having married a very tall Dutch man and having lived in the Netherlands for many years she has become a fluent Dutch speaker.  I do find it odd but, as she tells me severely “Dutch is not difficult.”  So the DM and her husband have two children, a little boy of 2 ½  who looks very Irish and speaks Dutch with a most impressive guttural g sound and English with a Cork accent. The Princess had her first crush and she trotted round the room after him saying “Bonjour, bonjour” while he, taking this adulation as his due, allowed her to play with his toys while making his impressive guttural noises.  The handsome prince has a cute little sister of 8 months but she was of no interest to our lovelorn girl.  By the end of the weekend, she was able to say the little boy’s name clearly but still referred to his sister dismissively as “baby”.

On Saturday, the weather was beautiful and we went to the beach.  While the men built sandcastles, the women saved the children from drowning.  It was all very exciting.  At one stage Mr. Waffle and Mr. DM were busy digging a hole while the Prince and Princess looked on longingly. Eventually the DM looked over and said reprovingly “I think you should let the children have one of the spades.”

Saturday night we ventured out.  All very pleasant.  We came home, however, to find a sick baby.  She had just woken up and as I took her into my arms she spewed onto me, herself and the carpet. Alas.  The DM had spares of everything and after mopping up we took her into bed with us.  And she threw up all over us (of course).  The DM proved her mettle, got up at 4 a.m. and supplied fresh everything all over again.  The following day we thought that the worst was over and drove to the park.  The Princess threw up all over the car seat. The handsome Prince’s car seat (being manly, and Dutch, he was travelling by bike with his Poppa) . The DM, stopped the car, provided spare clothes and we wiped up and washed up and proceded to the park where herself had a great time playing with bunnies while we worried whether she was really ill or this was the end of it.

What with the worry and everything, we were distracted and we arrived back at the house to find that Doggy was MISSING.  Yes, we had a sick child and her Doggy was lost.  The DM, who had to give her own kids lunch and who, you know, had better things to do, drove Mr. Waffle back to the park to find Doggy. I was torn between severe mortification and overwhelming gratitude.  And they found him.  The reunion between Princess and vomit flavoured canine companion was touching.  And she was fine all afternoon although she didn’t eat much.  But then that night, she decided to really test the DM’s resolve and sheet and towel supply and she was sick a number of times.  And we were worried.  And Monday morning, she was listless and miserable and sick on the DM’s kitchen floor (which the DM wiped up in her work clothes while Mr. Waffle and I stood about wringing our hands – is there no end to the woman’s virtue?). But upon reaching the fastness of her castle in Brussels, the Princess rallied and I am pleased to report that today she is entirely mended.

Meanwhile, back in the Hague, the DM is putting on her 14^th lot of washing and handwashing the handsome Prince’s car seat.  But we had such a nice time (really despite the vomiting), that I want to go again.  The DMs are great fun. The Hague is lovely. What’s not to like? Mr. Waffle feels we should maybe give them a short break before going again though. Can’t imagine why.

Personages of the royal household

Our courtiers can be divided into human and non-human. Among the humans, most important are Mama and Papa (a.k.a Daddy). Other courtiers, including our ambassadors abroad, are Genia, Dida, Nicolicola and Nana. Opinion is divided on whether Nana is a specific person, or a general category including Granny and Granddad.Chief of the non-human courtiers is of course Doggy, a.k.a Goggy or Chien-chien. As in all courts, the order of precedence for lesser courtiers constantly changes: recently, Lola has been in the ascendant, but her star may be waning in favour of Hop-Hop.

Other persons

Outside our kingdom, there are other independent monarchs who are known to us but do not pay us allegiance. These include  baby L*** and her mother. Another personage of unknown but impressive powers is Louis.

Expressing the royal will

The royal will can be expressed with few words. Oui/yes and no/non suffice for many occasions (the latter is especially firm when required). Commands can be expressed by down, up, back, catch, more, là, there, this, ça, and manger or by a suitable noun (e.g. bottle). When pleased, we have been known to say nice. Events which are displeasing to us can be communicated by ow, bump, bold and another word our mother is keen for us to forget. When mingling with commoners, we have a suitable range of small-talk to put them at their ease: hi, allo, bonjour, voilà, now so, coucou, all gone, bye-bye, au revoir and OK. When in Italy we learned ciao ciao so as to repay the homage given by the locals. At times the attention is overwhelming and we feel shy. Our royal status means that many things are given to us as our due, but we are at least familiar with merci and ta ta.

Science and culture

We are a Renaissance princess, highly cultivated and familiar with a range of natural sciences. It is often our royal will that the courtiers should bring us a book/livre and enthrall us with The Cat in the Hat or the Dinosaurs.

This has given us a wide acquaintance with popular culture: we like the chorus from She’ll be Coming Round the Mountain where we go yay yay yay and slap the royal knee. Another favourite with actions is “Row Row Row Your Boat” which is accompanied by suitable rowing actions and the words row row and may may may for merrily merrily. This can cause confusion with songs from the Gallic side of things: the popular favourite “It était un petit navire” has a line which goes “sur la mer Mé mé méditerrannée” and again is commanded by a subtly different mé mé sound. On the other hand, Meunier tu dors is unmistakable and is our only complete sentence.

In addition, from our books we are familiar with aspects of the animal kingdom: while out on the street, we are easily able to identify a bow-bow (or woof ) or a miaow, quack-quacks and cheep-cheeps. Thanks to our book Lion Misses Breakfast we are also familiar with lions, known to us as roar. Lions are often seen in Brussels. Our knowledge of animals which go moo, baa, neigh, eew-aww and bawk bawk (hens to the uninitiated) is a little more theoretical but we can still recognise them in pictures.

From the vegetable kingdom, we know leaf, flower and daisy (which triggers another song). All fruit on trees are called apple. One of our first words at the seaside, after sea, was shell, and we are able to spot fish at all stages from the wave to the plate.

We have a firm grasp of human anatomy, at least as regards the head: nez/nose, bouche, oreille/ear, teeth, eye/oeil, chin. Beyond this, things are more sketchy: we know knuckle, tummy, thumb, toe and possibly knee. We have an elementary grounding in medicine: cough and atchoo. We are on firmer ground in physics: hot/chaud, wet, cold and l’eau.

Food and drink

Like Louis XIV, we sometimes have a “petite levée” (when the monarch rises, attended by a small number of courtiers) and a “grande levée” (attended by the whole court). Unlike the Sun King’s court, our operations run 24 hours a day. A petite levée at 3 or 5 in the morning will be an informal affair, in which the monarch will call for lait/milk or simply boccle (a.k.a. bottle). At the grande levée, the monarch will often have porridge and toast (pronounced tote); occasionally she will take an egg. These are consumed in the royal high chair, before the Princess has donned her attire for the day. As a result, it is wise to have a bib. When out and about, the princess will sometimes call for some Giga (a.k.a. Liga) or baisins (a.k.a. raisins). She eats chicken, fish and cake and may help her mother to drink tea. She also likes pain (bread). After a meal, she will sometimes eat a bape (grape).  Meals are eaten with a spoon and the end of a royal meal is announced by “all gone.”

Exploring our kingdom

When leaving the palace to explore our kingdom, we dress as befits a princess: shoes, socks, tights and a coat. It may be necessary to changer our nappy before putting on these items.  If it is cold we may wear a scarf and hat. Many of these clothes fasten with a biz (zip). They require frequent trips to the wash. Our kingdom is sometimes damp if so, our attendant brings a brella (umbrella).

On leaving, our attendant locks the royal palace with a key (on our return, the captain of the guard will open the door if we knock). We often take the lift to where the car/voiture awaits traffic often provides an occasion to say beep beep. If we wish to mingle with our subjects, we take the tram or bus and wave regally to lucky commuters. If we see a baby, we may issue special greetings. Very rarely we take a train, and we do not quite connect it with our toy choo choo.

Unwinding in the evening

One favourite ritual is the royal bain (bath). As the day comes to an end, we go into the room where our mother takes her shower. No such rushed ablutions for us: after a luxurious soak and a splash with our toys (a ball/balle is especially good for getting everything wet) a courtier covers us with a warm towel. Hop là ! A cuddle, a night night and it’s time for dodo.

Text drafted by our royal father and approved by us.

Given under our royal hand and seal on the 17th day of October 2004 at our castle of Brussels in this the 18th month of our reign.

P.R.

The Princess was.  Yesterday.  We went out for tea to celebrate.

I sat down. I inserted the Princess in a high chair.  Tea and cake were ordered.

We had the following conversation:

Princess: Cake?

Me: Yes, cake. Would you like some?

Princess (nodding vigourously) : Oui, yes.

Me: Here’s a little on a plate for you.  What do you say?

Princess: Thank you. (Takes a mouthful) Nice. (Takes a further mouthful) More?

Me: I think that’s probably enough.

Princess (imperiously) : More.

Me (capitulating instantly) : OK.

Princess: Thank you. Merci.  Milk.

Me: Would you like some milk?

Princess : Oui, yes.

I poured out some milk into a mug and she sat and drank her milk and ate her cake, pointing out buses as they pulled up at the bus stop outside (Bus, bus, bus!).

Then we got ready to go. She smiled round at the other customers and said “Au revoir”.

We went to the cash desk to pay and as we swung out the door she called back to the man behind the counter “Au revoir, merci”.

Perfect.

Princess: Fuck

Me: Sweetheart please don’t say that.

Princess (hysterical giggle): Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Me : Darling, really, please donÂ’t say that.

Princess: Fuck.

Yesterday the Princess and I went to mass on our own. We got the tram in and a nice old lady chatted to her until she (the Princess) managed to get her foot under the lady’s skirt and kick it up in the air.  Got off the tram in some relief. Went into the church. Princess immediately began scurrying round. Dragged her back to our pew where she grabbed the Sunday paper I had purchased and began to demolish it. Rescued the paper and stuck it up under an angel’s wing. Princess pointed imperiously at string bag on the back of the buggy. “Bockle, bockle”. Gave her the bottle which she proceeded to turn upside down and drip on the floor. Removed bottle. Gave some brief thought to the Gospel on Lazarus and Dives. Princess went back to the string bag and said “Waisin, waisin”. “What?” “Waisin, waisin!!” Removed box of raisins and gave them to her, she chucked them in the air in delight and the next five minutes saw me on my hands and knees trying to beat her to the raisins on the church floor.  Middling success. She didn’t eat quite all of them. She then squatted down, went purple in the face and made a groaning noise. I departed and took her to a nearby cafe to change her. To be honest, I would have abandoned mass at that point except that I realised that the paper was still back there stuck under the angel’s wing. So back we went. When we emerged there was a tram outside so we lept on joyfully only to discover that the lady whose skirt the Princess had kicked in the air was there too. A little frostiness. Arrived home in a state of advanced collapse.

This morning, the Princess picked up her butterfly and cradled it in her arms making a highpitched noise that might be interpreted by the charitable as singing.  I looked at her and she pointed at the butterfly “dodo”.  “Oh” I said “is the butterfly going to sleep?”  She looked at me balefully, put her finger to her lips and hissed “Shh”. Two can play at that game. I picked up the butterfly and said “waah, waah, no, no”. She giggled and grabbed the butterfly back, put it in a cardboard box, patted it on the head and said firmly “dodo”. She then took my hand and walked me away. I think that, perhaps, my little girl might like a doll for Christmas.