Princess

For the past month, herself has been doing an after school drama class and getting the bus home afterwards on her own which she really enjoys.

Yesterday, at about 4.10 when she should have been coming in the door, I got a call from a mobile number I didn’t recognise. A man with a foreign accent said, “I have your daughter, do you want to speak to her?” “Yes!” You will be relieved to hear that she had not been kidnapped. Due to the water charges protest there were no buses running and she went to a phone/internet shop to call me and tell me that she would be late as she was going to walk home. She tried to use the shop system but it didn’t work for her and the man behind the counter just let her use his phone which was very kind. But I didn’t want her to walk home as it would soon be dark and told her to wait outside the school and I would come and get her. It should only have taken about 10 minutes to get in but between getting out the door with the two boys and the remaining water charges traffic chaos it was nearly half an hour later and almost dark when I pulled up outside the school and picked up a frozen little figure from the top of the steps. She looked so small and cold outside the big locked door – all on her own in the city. It was grim for her and a number of passers by had inquired whether she was alright which is can be unnerving when you are small and alone although I am sure that their intentions were good.

It was all a bit upsetting but I am very proud of how she acquitted herself. I wish I had thought to tell her to wait in the nearby library which was warm and familiar but I hadn’t and, since she has no phone, couldn’t, of course, call her to tell her or to tell her about the traffic.

The campaign for a Christmas phone has just stepped up a notch.

They had a quiz in the Princess’s class at school. They were asked who is the disciple who is called “doubting”? Conversation in her team of 4 went as follows:

Child 1: It’s Judas.
Children 2 & 3: Yes!
Herself: No, it’s Thomas.
Others: No it’s definitely Judas. Who is Thomas, anyway?
Herself: The one that’s known as Doubting Thomas. I swear I am right. I know I am, I really do.
Others: Nah.
Herself: I totally am right, please, please can we put Thomas?
Others [reluctantly]: Alright, but it’s wrong.

I despair. She was quite pleased though, her team won the quiz.

The Princess is taking drama after school [no better woman] and is to star in a modern version of Beauty and the Beast* where Beauty is a spoilt older sister.

She reported that she was told the news thus by her drama teacher [of whom she is very fond]: “You are the spoilt, bossy Beauty, you [pointing to small winsome child] are the lovely little sister and I am a casting genius.”

* Her father tells me that the play is called “Beauty is a Beast”.

Me: What are you reading?
Herself: Ross O’Carroll-Kelly in the paper.
Me: Oh, a fan of the Rossmeister, are we?
Her: No, I read it for Honor.

When we left Belgium, the Princess was 5. At that time, in my office in Brussels, there was a very annoying intern. His mother came to visit. She was a primary school teacher. I told her that we were moving back to Ireland and she asked about the Princess’s reading ability. I confessed that she couldn’t read. The intern’s mother was shocked and pointed out that the intern had been able to read well before starting school. She commented that the Princess would be miles behind and would never catch up. I was concerned, of course I was. I spent hours with herself, trying to teach her how to read which was torture for both of us and a completely wasted effort.

Back in Dublin, she started in senior infants [the second year of Irish schooling] and had a lovely teacher who assured me that she would be fine and was utterly unfazed by the Princess’s inability to read. At the start of the year the Princess could neither speak Irish nor read, by the end of the year, she could do both. A triumph for the virtues of the Irish education system. The fact remains that she was nearly 6 when she learnt to read which is on the late side of the spectrum. But she loves to read. Recently I asked her, “What are you reading?” and she replied “I’m re-reading Little Women as a palate cleanser between Wuthering Heights and Pride and Prejudice.” Never catch up indeed, hah! I might add that she is reading aloud Georgette Heyer’s Arabella for my mother whose eyesight is not good. Hah again!

What was the advice, you ask? Don’t worry, when your child starts to read, it is, in my experience, no indication at all of future reading habits. So there.