The head of my organisation is presenting at a seminar on how to promote your career in a recession. I have been asked to attend. Unfortunately, I cannot do so as it is mid-term and I will be at home minding the children.
Archives for February 2011
Being sick, poor and marginalised. Not very nice.
The childminder took the children to the park yesterday. Some big bold boys ran after them, tried to kick them, shouted at them and called them names. The childminder departed with the children in tow and the bullies following. They only left when the children got on the bus home. The Princess is particularly upset, pointing out that they tried to kick Daniel she said, “I can do that, but no one else is allowed to.” They were all a bit shaken up. Later in the evening, Daniel said to me, “Mummy, the mean boys in the park called me [insert nasty racist epithet here] what does that mean?” Lovely. Proof that racists are stupid, I suppose. Mr. Waffle said to them, that these were children who weren’t looked after properly and taught properly and they probably wouldn’t have very happy lives. I was much less inclined to go with the wishy-washy liberal approach than usual and just said that they were nasty children [looks like it’s true – a conservative is a liberal who has been mugged].
Princess: Don’t put clips in my hair.
Me: But they’re nice.
Princess: Only to old people.
Me: But the teachers in your school are old people.
Her: But there are far more students than teachers in the school.
Me: That’s what’s called peer pressure.
Her: No, it’s not, my peers are only in second class. Sixth class girls don’t like them either.
In other news, the Princess has taken to saying words backwards. She is quite amazingly talented at it but, as my mother says, it has absolutely no practical application whatsoever.
Michael would not go to bed so he sat on the couch with me watching such parts of the news as I deemed suitable for his consumption.
Him: That’s a robber who’s been found guilty.
Me: That’s right.
Him: And they’re going to kill him.
Me (slightly shocked): No, of course, they’re not. He’s going to go to jail.
Him: Oh yes, and he won’t get any food there.
Me: No, of course, he’ll be fed!
Michael: What is it, a holiday camp? [OK, I made that last line up but you can see that this is what was going through his little mind.]
I have a colleague who is a vegetarian and loves animals. I think she may be a vegan and not use leather either. Very thorough. The most impressive moment came today when she gloomily confided to me that she thought she had rats under her decking (a distressingly common problem, apparently). “What will you do?” I asked. “I’ll get a humane trap and release them in the park.”