Me: Stop torturing the cat.
Herself: I’m not torturing her, she likes it.
Daniel: It’s mean to torture animals.
Me: Yes it is.
Daniel: And to kill them.
Me: Yes, indeed.
Daniel: But you ate a lamb.
Middle Child
Concerns
Daniel gets cross very quickly. He is liable to whack his siblings at the slightest provocation; not that the provocation they offer is necessarily slight. He used not to hit outside the family but he came home from school before Christmas cheerily labelled by his brother as a “buachaill dana”. Michael is himself a smug “buachaill deas” and his homework is good too. This is the problem with being a twin, you are always measured against your sibling. The teacher confirmed that Daniel had been whacking his little companions and had been sent to the “oifig” to reflect upon his sins. She didn’t seem too concerned and said words to the effect of “boys, what can you do?” We traced the onset of his poor behaviour at school to the time he moved table to sit beside another “buachaill dana” who seemed to bear the brunt of his aggression. The teacher has moved Daniel again and he now seems to be faring much better at the bord bui. I know I sound like some dreadful caricature mother but, poor Daniel, he does really feel things more than his two siblings (yes, I know, cold comfort to the whackee). He gets very upset, if he feels we are laughing at him or haven’t understood him. These traits are going to make for excellent teenage years, are they not?
Meanwhile being a buachaill deas is taking its toll on Michael who since starting school has begun to bite his nails and is wetting the bed almost nightly. Sigh.
They both regularly ask to go back to Montessori (particularly Michael) and speak fondly of the toys and games there though neither was at all keen at the time.
And, after extended Christmas break, they are going back on Wednesday, I wonder how that will go?
Mr. Waffle’s Moment of Truth
Daniel: Is there actimel in my lunch box?
Mr. Waffle: No, but there is fruit: grapes and apple.
Daniel and Michael in chorus: I don’t like grapes.
Mr. Waffle: No Michael, there is a banana for you.
Michael: I don’t want a banana.
Mr. Waffle: Well, Michael, every day you get a banana for school and it doesn’t come home so, I assume, something happens to it in school.
Michael: Yes, I put it in the bin.
And in today’s link section, an appealing post by a woman whose school sandwiches are never rejected because (insert really terrified gasp here), she homeschools her children.
Call the tabloids
Me: Does anybody know who Barack Obama is?
Her: Yes, let me think, yes, he is the President of the United States.
Me: Very good.
Daniel: I’ve seen him.
Me: Really?
Daniel: Yes.
Me: Where?
Daniel: Outside my window.
Me: Oh yes?
Daniel: Oh yes, and he was naked.
And here’s a nice link for those who love Dr. Seuss.
And for the cat owners with children, keep the children away from the hole punch or your cat may end up like this.
Injury
Daniel came down to breakfast claiming that he had a sore foot. I didn’t believe him. We carried him all morning and brought him into school. Amazingly, the heartless muinteoir was actually quite sympathetic. I thought he was malingering. Mid-morning, Mr. Waffle got a call from the school – Daniel’s foot is still sore. The teacher said he wasn’t complaining but she felt he was quite genuine. Poor Daniel. The next day, he was fine. Growing pains?
Eeek!
My children do not enjoy as diverse a diet as I did when I was their age. In part this is because I am not at all as good a cook as my mother and in part because they are the pickiest eaters in Ireland.
I am spending a couple of days with my parents (photos of flooding may follow, hold your breath) and this evening my mother cooked prawns for the offspring. It was then that I realised that they had never even had a frozen prawn before, let alone one still encased in its shell. They gazed in horrified fascination at the little bodies laid out for their delectation. They winced as I screwed off the thorax and pulled out the edible part. The Princess then began to create new bodies using the heads and pincers. The boys were too afraid to even touch them. So, your best guess, did they eat any dinner tonight?