When I went to my parents’ house a couple of weeks ago, I put the children in front of the television for the weekend which worked well for all of us, aside from the inevitable guilt which I suffered. I am now paying the price for this over-exposure.
Daniel keeps saying in an English accent, “See our new catalogue for details. Now in-store!” Michael peering into the cupboard under the sink said to me, “Look, Vanish oxi action power gel, works on all kinds of stains.” Oh the wages of sin.
The boys eat nothing. Every evening at dinner, Michael surveys the table and announces dolefully, “There’s nothing I like.” I was at the library the other day and the staff had strategically placed a book on parenting in the children’s section. I flicked to the part on children’s eating habits looking idly for tips. It was all about tackling childhood obesity. Well, at least there’s one problem we haven’t got at the moment.
When I came home from work, Michael looked up from what he was doing and said, “Mum, the babysitter kicked me.” He then went back about his business. I protested feebly, “Don’t call O “the babysitter” Michael, she has a name.” And then I turned to O and asked “Ahem, did you, eh, you know, eh…” to which she said, no.
Nevertheless, the children have not taken a shine to her and, certainly, she is not as good as her predecessor who was terrific. But she seems ok. And she will be finishing in the next couple of months in any event to go back to France for the ski season. So, I suppose we will tough it out.
I discovered that the children have other plans. The boys’ teacher took me aside this morning. She said that the boys had told her that they were working on a secret plan developed by their sister. At her signal they were to scream and only to stop when she picked up the cat. I see a number of difficulties here including both the objection of the cat and the Princess’s choice of co-conspirators. Still, I am experiencing definite unease. This evening the Princess asked me why I can’t sack the babysitter.
Oh dear. Do you think that the babysitter will tough it out?
Last night, the Princess had a friend to stay. All the children went to bed at 9 o’clock. At 10.00 we trapped the boys in our bed and they finally went to sleep. At about 10.30 a very loud alarm in a local municipal facility went off. Phone calls to authorities led to the information that nobody could turn it off. The Princess and her friend came downstairs to complain about the noise. We said that they could sleep in our bed (at the back of the house). We transferred the sleeping boys back to their own beds from ours and in hopped the girls. At 11.30 we decanted the girls and were finally able to get into our own bed. We were delighted. True, four other people had already slept in it that evening, but parents have low standards.
Oh yeah, while we were waiting to get to bed, appropriately enough, we watched the DVD box set of “Outnumbered” which is distressingly accurate.
Daniel: I’m the best in the class at Irish dancing.
Me: Good for you.
Daniel (after some reflection): The best except for S.
Me: Well, you know, S’s mother is a dancer, so you would expect him to be good at dancing.
Daniel: Am I good at what you do Mummy?
Me: Well, um, you probably have latent middle manager skills.
Daniel is a very cautious child. He does not like to be hurt. He is careful. This is why it is particularly upsetting to him that he has, in the last week, swallowed a 5 cent coin and fallen while crossing the road (not simultaneously).
The coin is still, I think, lodged in his tummy – it may be there forever but he seems to have recovered from the pain of having it travel slowly down his oesophagus. His fall, where he landed on his nose and lips (though, mercifully, apparently not his teeth) continues to be a source of grief. He bled profusely. He now has swollen lips and a big scrape on his nose and his glasses need to be replaced again which will not be possible before Christmas. Even his siblings have been moved to sympathy.