The boys’ school has banned nuts as there are nut allergy sufferers in the school. This includes popcorn which we find a little baffling as it is maize. However, our favoured brand is apparently made in a factory where they also package nuts so we have negotiated approval for a brand change. In advance of the shopping with the new brand arriving, I said to Michael that he would have to manage without popcorn for a couple of days. “Oh no,” he said, “I can have my old popcorn for now. The new nut policy is like Brexit: it’s decided but not implemented.” Insert your own Brexit/nut related jokes here.
Twins
I’m More of a Big Picture Person
Daniel and his hurling team took part in a competition and there was a photo of them in the club newsletter and a write up of the match. A colleague of mine is in the same club and I showed him the article. “Oh yes,” he said, “that’s a great competition and they won it.” “Oh no, I think they came second,” I said. He was surprised but said no more and admired the photo. I came home and told Daniel, “I showed the article to my colleague who’s a very good hurler and he was very impressed even if you guys didn’t win.” An outraged Daniel replied, “But we did win!” I should probably have read the article.
The Tooth Fairy Hovers on the Edge of Bankruptcy
Daniel has lost a lot of teeth recently. Who knew that 11 was a big age for losing baby teeth?
11
The boys turned 11 on September 27.
My parents were 49 years married.
Google turned 18.
There was a lot going on. Stay tuned for a birthday update on my 11 year olds.
Tough Crowd
Me (happily): Michael is going to have a boiled egg for lunch. This is all down to you miss, if you hadn’t encouraged him to have one he might never have started back on eggs. This will be your legacy!
Herself: Fantastic, other people have leadership, world peace and so on as their legacy and mine will be getting Michael to eat eggs.
Me: No, no, you are bringing domestic bliss to the world. Not to be underrated.
Her: Oh don’t go all Beth on me. The chirping of the cricket in the hearth that isn’t noticed until it is gone, is it?
To the Lighthouse
A couple of years ago, we took the children on a walk out to Poolbeg lighthouse. It was a bit far and they were tired and cranky. They’ve remembered it as a low point ever since. As the pigeon house towers which are a bit of a Dublin landmark and can be seen from all over the city dominate the walk, they were regularly reminded of it and each time they saw the towers, they said, never again.
One Sunday lunch time, we found ourselves wondering what to do on a sunny afternoon. Various suggestions were put forward – Botanic Gardens, play on the x-box – but none was finding favour with the group. I found my eye drawn to Daniel’s t-shirt, a present from his grandfather featuring a notable Dublin landmark. “NO!” he said, clutching his chest. Like a Mexican wave of fear, the children around the table started shouting “NO” while their father looked on bewildered and their mother became hysterical with laughter.
Mr. Waffle and I overcame all resistance and took them off to the Lighthouse. They were amazed how short the walk seemed; they were a lot smaller last time. It was even, they conceded, not the worst outing ever.
