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Princess

Sic Transit


Posted in: Princess

A couple of weeks ago, the Princess and her friend E went shopping together in town. Alone – unaccompanied by parents. They were given two hours, a limited range (one shopping centre) and a mobile phone.

In advance, she was full of excitement. She chose her outfit with great care and applied a limited amount of make up (birthday present from E). Her eyes shone with anticipation; she couldn’t stop smiling. I tried to point out that a period of two hours in a shopping centre, even in a large shopping centre, was likely to be dull but to no avail, she was undaunted. I went to collect her in some trepidation. It was wonderful. They had the best time ever. They ordered lunch together. They bought a magnetic necklace in two halves that said Be Fri and st ends. They took a photograph of themselves in a photo booth.

Last weekend they did it again, they were given 3 hours and a wider radius including streets near the shopping centre. She was mildly excited in advance. Afterwards, I asked how it was, “Fine, grand, you know.”

Not Waving but Drowning


Posted in: Family, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

On the way home from swimming, Michael was indignantly asking why he had to learn to swim and I was explaining that swimming was a life skill.

Michael: I won’t go near deep water.
Me [automatically, remembering this ad from my childhood]: “It’s possible to drown in only a few inches of water.”
Herself: Yes, remember that relative who drowned…
Me: Yes, yes, your Nana’s great aunt who drowned in a barrel of cream [as a toddler].
Herself: No, I was thinking of Grandma’s great uncle who had a fit in the bath.

19th century deaths were much more dramatic.

Religious Debate


Posted in: Ireland, Princess

Princess to Bohemian Friend: Are you Catholic?
Bohemian Friend: Sort of.
Princess: Eh?
Bohemian Friend: Well, we go to the Protestant church because it’s near our house but I still like to pray to Mary.
Protestant Friend: Oh for heaven’s sake make up your mind.

A Weekend of Two Halves


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Princess, Youngest Child

A couple of weeks ago, I took the children to see Derek Landy, author of the popular Skulduggery Pleasant books. Herself read them for the first time a while ago but they have merited re-reading and the boys have been haring through them over the past couple of months.

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I was a bit worried that the boys might not enjoy the session [being less patient than their sister] but I needn’t have worried, Derek Landy was fantastic. He spoke for about an hour and had them all in stitches and then stayed patiently signing books and chatting, with every appearance of enthusiasm, to every child in the room.

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Buoyed up by this undoubted success, we went to the National Museum on Sunday for a session on Vikings billed as being for “the young and the young at heart”. I now know that this means for ages 3-6. The children were in the centre of the room on the mat and there was no escape. This nice man from New Zealand sang a number of songs of his own devising about the Vikings which the younger children loved. Michael just sat with his head in his hands throughout. Herself and Daniel gamely tried to answer the questions that the songster threw out to the audience about the Vikings. Since they were aimed at 3-6 year olds, my pair obviously knew the answers and their hands went straight up in the air every time. Mr. NZ sang loudly and with enthusiasm. I had a migraine and the headache tablets I had taken before leaving the house were only somewhat effective in countering his efforts.

The only amusing moment was when Mr. NZ said, “Brian Boru beat the Vikings at the Battle of Clontarf, where’s Clontarf?” [Expected answer – Dublin] A three year old with curls stuck up his hand. “It’s on the Northside.”

It’ll be a while before we’re back to the National Museum, I’d say.

Foraging for Food


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess

Mr. Waffle is away for a couple of days and standards have slipped. The children say, in great excitement, “Are we foraging for dinner?” This consists of staring at the contents of the fridge/freezer and hauling out what appeals. Tonight the Princess, upholder of standards, has promised to make us chicken rissoles from Monday’s leftover chicken. I think, however, we all feel that the return of Mr. Waffle will be a good thing.

Blood and Gore


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

My loving husband was virtuously cleaning the cooker one morning and managed to give himself a knock on the overhead extractor which led to him bleeding copiously all over the kitchen floor and down the side of his face in a very dramatic manner. The children and I were very alarmed. No more cooker cleaning for him.

In other – admittedly tenuously connected – blood on the kitchen floor stories, the cat caught a blackbird and brought it into the house. A blackbird is quite a big bird to have in the house, particularly when a cat is haring after it in delight. The childminder and the children ran out of the house and shouted at the cat and the bird through the kitchen window with results such as you might expect. The childminder rang Mr. Waffle for directions on opening the kitchen window (trickier than you might think – particularly from outside). The Princess bravely ventured in and scooped up the cat and locked her into Michael’s room to the cat’s intense chagrin. The bird lay behind the kettle with a wing stuck out at an odd angle. The kitchen was plastered with blood and feathers. The childminder and the boys went to inspect the damage and the bird, like something from a creepy horror movie, sprang up on its feet and gave them heart failure. It began to fly again just as Mr. Waffle, feeling that support was needed on the home front, came back so he was able to help usher it out the window. Then he set to clearing up blood and feathers so that by the time I got home from work all that remained was a dramatic story and small feathers which turned up for quite a while in the oddest places. Is he not a saint?

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Cat looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.