Princess (to Mr. W.): Phtum, you’re me.
Princess (to me): Phtum, you’re Daddy.
Me (to Princess): Who are you?
Princess(aggrievedly):I’m MUMMY.
Mr. W (as Princess): Waah, get my doggy.
Me (as Mr. W): Don’t shout, be good and I will get your doggy.
Mr. W (as Princess): PLEASE get my doggy.
Me (as Mr. W. to Princess in role of Mummy): Is that sufficient? Will I get her doggy?
Princess (as Mummy): Yes, she is only two and a half, you know.
on 19 January 2006 at 12:44
Sweetie(s) given ���
on 19 January 2006 at 19:14
Sweetie(s) given ���
on 20 January 2006 at 11:56
I’m torn between recommending Mr Waffle be more demanding and him being more flexible and accommodation. I fear the former may just give her more inspiration and the later give her unrealistic representation of herself.
Sweetie(s) given ���
on 20 January 2006 at 12:17
Sweetie(s) given ���
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First World Problems
Our fridge is broken. I rang my sister for sympathy.
Me (dolefully): Guess what?
Her: What?
Me: Our fridge has broken down.
Her: Thank God, I thought that you were going to say that you were pregnant.
I rang the Baroness’s agent (yes our landlady is a Baroness, welcome to Belgium, land of minor aristocracy) but
Charles-Emmanuel was unmoved by our plight. “But,” I pleaded “we have twin babies, we really NEED a fridge.” “Madam,” he said unmoved, “everybody needs a fridge.”
In fairness, however, the Baroness and her ex-husband (all the tenants wish that they’d get back together, he’s very handy and efficient) turned up to inspect the offending fridge, pronounced it dead and have since arranged for a new one to be purchased. Delivery is, alas, still pending. This is a matter of particular regret to me since I bought a lot of post-Christmas discount foie gras (in Belgium, foie gras is for Christmas not for life) and now it all has to be chucked.
Comments
Bobble
on 18 January 2006 at 15:49
We’ll come round and help you out with the eating.
Friar Tuck
on 18 January 2006 at 16:11
Maybe you could send the foie gras to the baroness in order to stress the importance of receiving a new fridge ASAP.
on 18 January 2006 at 16:37
Why *minor* aristocracy ? Aristocracy is measured by its origins in time, rather than a scale of titles … Your baroness could very well be from a family dating from the 12th century, and a Count might as well be from a family belonging to aristocracy since the early 1900’s …
jackdalton
on 18 January 2006 at 20:48
Just as well, knowing what foie gras is supposed to do to the libido…
Friar Tuck
on 19 January 2006 at 02:26
Baroness makes a good point. Take my family, for instance. We can trace our origins back to Adam and Eve.
kristin
on 19 January 2006 at 04:39
just recovering from my posting faux pas of a few days ago to say … ‘toast points for everyone!’ i am quite jealous that you have good foie gras available to you, nevermind its incipient demise.
belgianwaffle
on 19 January 2006 at 12:08
It is very gratifying to discover that you all like foie gras.
Baroness, with all due respect, no matter how old a baronetcy is, I think that it’s pretty low down the pecking order.
poggle
on 19 January 2006 at 12:45
That’s awful – just awful – throwing away foie gras is a tragedy
belgianwaffle
on 20 January 2006 at 12:15
Pog, I am delighted to add you to the long list of my readers who are foie gras fans. Perhaps we could set up a club.
poggle
on 20 January 2006 at 12:53
Yes – we could have secret handshakes and codes (eg the grey geese fly at dawn). Ahem.
jackdalton
on 20 January 2006 at 13:18
Hmmm, grey geese that fly at dawn etc. Another unexpected depth to the Pog(gle).
But what I really wanted to say was that I have vague memories of being emotionally savaged by a policy wonk / veggie type I loved deeply but too well because of what they do to geese to make foie gras. All about locking them in barns, force-feeding them, clipping wings and oversized livers that made their legs break. And so on.
Kind of put me off for a while. But I’m allright now…
Ain’t time a wonderful thing?!
poggle
on 20 January 2006 at 13:20
Your policy wonk/veggie type was telling the truth. I am a bad person. Sometimes my appetite outweighs my conscience. But you already knew that, right?
jackdalton
on 20 January 2006 at 13:51
We are all bad people in some small ways; unthinkingly dragging (one of our two) new blankets through the gutters of life. Except ‘waf. Who is amazingly stoic and clear-sighted or something.
(Can anything truly outweigh conscience? Just wondering…. )
poggle
on 20 January 2006 at 13:53
You’re right, of course. My conscience doesn’t generally get outweighed. Sometimes it gets pushed to the back because of an excess of vin rouge (or similar), but not for long.
belgianwaffle
on 23 January 2006 at 09:08
Conscience? What’s that? The grey geese fly at dawn, my friends.
jackdalton
on 23 January 2006 at 20:41
So that would be geese and conscience flying with the wind….. 0
belgianwaffle
on 25 January 2006 at 08:51
Eh, yes Jack. 0
Around Whom Does the World Revolve?
In the tram, the Princess peers at a fellow traveller’s shopping and, perceiving a gift wrapped item, turns to me, points at the parcel and says “I hope that present is for me.”
Bobble
on 18 January 2006 at 15:48 She needs her own TV show. Sweetie(s) given ���
poggle
on 19 January 2006 at 12:46 Bobs is right. I’d pay to watch that. Sweetie(s) given ���
belgianwaffle
on 19 January 2006 at 19:15 HJB, Bobble, pog, do you think if we put her on the telly she might start to pay her way? Sweetie(s) given ���
poggle
on 20 January 2006 at 09:37 She might at least employ you as her PA – that’d be a start … 😉 0
Sweetie(s) given ���
belgianwaffle
on 20 January 2006 at 12:16 Pog, I think she’d be too demanding a boss. HJB, ta for sweetie, belatedly noticed.. 0
Sweetie(s) given
Tortured Vowels
When the Princess speaks English, she sounds like a little Belgian. Aside from the mistaken direct translations (e.g. “I’m there” for “I’m here” and “I’m coming” for “I can do it”) her accent is very odd. She pronounces there “theyRE”, here is “heRE” and chair is “chayRE”. I am baffled, it’s not like she’s ever heard anyone say “chayRE” and she obviously has no idea how they’re spelt.
She also laughs at my French pronunciation. Her class is called “accueil†and that combination of vowels is very hard for the non-French speaker. She now ambushes me saying: “Say “écureuil, accueil, feuille— Mummy. Oh very funny.
Religious Observance
“Can we go to the pain quotidien (post mass treat) and no mass?” the Princess asked me
I don’t know why she objects, it’s far from the dull experience I had when I was her age. Â We check out the confessionals at the back of the church and look at all the statues “Look, Mummy, baby Jesus. Oh Mummy, another baby Jesus”. You get the picture.
Incidentally, I am having some difficulty explaining the role of Joseph in the holy family, for the meanwhile he has been described as Jesus’s Daddy which may yet get me excommunicated.
Looking at the pietà which features a rather grisly looking Jesus we had the following exchange.
Her: Oh Mummy, poor sick Jesus.
Me: Yes dear.
Her: And his Mummy Mary is sad.
Me: Yes she is, poor Mary.
Her: As sad as Cinderella?
Me: Possibly even sadder.
Her: We give her a biscuit to make it better.
Me: She is so sad that even a biscuit may not make it better.
kristin
(Homepage)
on 15 January 2006 at 16:31
Good for the Princess, tackling the tough topics. My little one is terrified of the priests, which makes eucharist very complicated. last time, as the wizened hand reached forward to bless her, she backed up, stepped off the kneeling bit at the altar rail and fell smack on her diapered bottom. Oh, the screams. Mommy didn’t take communion that day, she was busy rushing the screaming devil-child away from the source of righteousness.on 15 January 2006 at 19:16
Ahh biscuits. Is there anything they can’t do? 1 Sweetie(s) givenFriar Tuck
on 16 January 2006 at 16:10
If it’s such a pain, why does Princess like it so much? (Sorry. Now I know why you want me out of your blog.)on 16 January 2006 at 17:50
I’m sure the baboon would agree with her on the biscuits fixing anything principle … 0Sweetie(s) given
on 19 January 2006 at 12:06
Pog, Norah, ahh biscuits. Thanks for the sweetie N.FT, get your own blog.
Kristin, no problem at all, made me feel very popular.
Thks Sez.Â
Did you know that Prince Charming was Irish?
Me: And the clock struck midnight.
Her: Bong, bong, bong.
Me: And Cinderella ran away.
Her: Did Prince Charming say “feck” Mummy?
on 12 January 2006 at 10:32
Sweetie(s) given ���
on 12 January 2006 at 17:15
Sweetie(s) given ���
on 12 January 2006 at 17:37
Sweetie(s) given ���
When he was her age, Tetan pretended he was Alice (in Wonderland). That worried me at some point (since I remembered giving birth to a baby boy). Nowadays, he sits on the side of the bathtub pretending he is a gargoyle (The Gargoyles on TV everyday at 8.00am). When I was 4, I didn’t even know what a gargoyle was… A spoiled generation.
on 13 January 2006 at 13:03
Sweetie(s) given ���
on 13 January 2006 at 14:09
Thank you Peggy, think we’re some way from the sophistication of gargoyles over here.
Ah yes, pog, I know what you mean – when I had time on my hands.
Bobble, Norah, Sonicson, ta.
Sweetie(s) given ���
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