Part I
Me: Did you have to change Daniel while the Princess and I were on the boat yesterday?
Him: Yes.
Me: What did you do?
Him: I took him to the gents in that cafe we were in.
Me: There was a changing thingamajiggy in the gents?
Him: No, I sat on the toilet and changed him on my knee.
Me: What did you do with Michael?
Him: I left him in the cafe in the care of strangers.
Part II
Me: Those boys have a lot of khaki trousers.
Him: Yes, it’s hereditary.
We went to Ghent this morning. It was a bright sunny morning at 8.00 and it is the last day of April, we dressed accordingly. Need I tell you that it bucketed down? Or that the Princess and I took a ride in an uncovered boat while Mr. Waffle strode the damp cobblestones with two chilled little boys? It was 7 degrees in Ghent this morning. Tomorrow is the first day of May. Global warming indeed.
In fact, it wasn’t as bad as that makes it sound. The Princess loved the boat trip. We heard about the 55 illegitimate children that Charles V left in Ghent. We saw a lot of ducks (always thrilling). The only difficulty was the woman in the front of the boat with the microphone “When will she stop TALKING, Mummy?” Mr. Waffle, as befits a man who took 3 small children to the doctor for injections while his wife was off on a “work trip”, was unfazed by the difficulty of trying to entertain seven month old twin boys in an unexpectedly cold and damp environment.
After the boat trip, we ran to the car in the pouring rain pushing our buggy cavalcade at speed over the cobblestones. Possibly in consequence, the double buggy appears to have expired. I’m trying to work in the phrase “I gallop’d, Mr. Waffle gallop’d, we gallop’d all three†into the text here, but it’s more difficult than you might imagine.
Oh and yes, it was fine in Brussels in the morning but the rain followed us back from Ghent and we spent the afternoon gazing dolefully out the rain battered windows.
When I was small, I always wanted to travel by plane (my parents preferred mode of holiday travel was by ferry, sigh). My father flew a lot for work and I used to pester him with questions as to what it was like and he would always say: have you been on a bus? Well, like that, only with less leg room.
The Princess has been on more flights than I can remember and she’s always saying to me “Can we go by bus Mummy?â€, “Mummy, what’s it like on a bus?â€. I reply “have you been on a plane? Well, like that, only with more leg room”.
Anyhow, tomorrow, I will have the dubious pleasure of travelling by plane to a distant destination for work. Alone. Leaving poor Mr. Waffle holding the babies and also the toddler. Perhaps there will be updates from the distant country, perhaps not. It all depends whether I can crack this wifi thing.
“You have to think beyond it, otherwise it will eat you up inside.  Having got over the initial shock, you have to see beyond it.  Good things can happen.â€
Please guess whether the woman quoted had
a)Â Â Â Â Lost a close relative
b)Â Â Â Â Lost a limb
c)    Lost a wedding dress when a “bridal shop†closed down.
You guessed it. The man acting for the owner of the shop is quoted as saying “In my 30 years as a solicitor, this is one of the mst vitriolic and emotional meetings [the creditors’ meeting] I have ever been at. For the last hour and a half, she [the owner] has endeavoured to answer all of the questions she has been asked.  She has received a number of abusive phone calls and quasi death-threatsâ€. No, I don’t know what a “quasi death threat†is either but I think that we can take it that the brides are annoyed. I suspect that her solicitor didn’t do her any favours by telling the assembled multitude, however reasonably, that “customers needed to realise it was ‘only a wedding dress’ and wasn’t the worst thing in the worldâ€. Read more here. Go on, you know you want to.
Weird
As I am sure you know, adoptive mothers can breastfeed. Oh yes. Everyone knows that. I pointed this out to a friend of mine whom Michael was nuzzling hopefully:
Her: I don’t think that will work, young man.
Me: Oh yes it will, if you’re willing to try.
Her: No, I really don’t think so.
Me: Haven’t you ever heard of adoptive breastfeeding?
Her: WHAT? NO.
Me: It’s true, ask anyone.
Her: I wouldn’t know where to start.
Me: OK, maybe not anyone.
Weirder
When I was a baby, a friend of my mother’s who had worked in Africa announced to my grandmother that in Ethiopia the grandmothers helped out with the breastfeeding. I understand from my mother that my grandmother decided firmly against this course of action.
Weirdest
You may think that I am out there on the edge of weirdness with my knowledge of adoptive breastfeeding and such, but the BCT (Brussels Childbirth Trust) mag will always go one better for you. Let me quote from the article on breastfeeding: “Milk production is the result of stimulation of the nipple. This stimulation leads to the production of two hormones, oxytocin and prolactin in the pituitary which in turn prompt milk production. This appears to be possible for men, to a certain degree..â€