Seriously… this hairdo came in a box labelled “Draco Malfoy wig”. I demand my £7 back.
All hail the joyous annual spectre of World Book Day.
I know it’s still over a week away but I was actually feeling quite smug and prepared for WBD this year because girl has forgotten that she went as Red Riding Hood last year (hooray for re-use!) and boy has a Harry Potter costume that he’s only worn once. But… balls to that. The school has issued an irritating announcement that the children have to dress up as villains this year. Grr!
Hence I have endured a daily haranguing from the boy for a Draco Malfoy outfit. I can’t convince him otherwise, despite the fact that he is the living embodiment of Harry Potter. The only way this small, skinny oik with dark, sticking-up hair is going to look like Malfoy is if someone can brew me some emergency polyjuice potion.
Bring on the Doris Day wig.
I’ve tried in vain to convince him to go as The Trunchbull, on the basis that she’s always played by a man on stage. Does nobody share my desire to stride around all day calling small children squirming worms of vomit?
Oh, sigh. Never mind that I DO NOT HAVE TIME for this.
As for Hubblepot, I have her red cape and basket at the ready. My only task is to avoid putting other ideas into her head. (I will also avoid last year’s insane whimsy of putting delicious treats in the basket. What in god’s name was I thinking?)
She’s as adorable and feral as ever. It feels like 5 mins since she joined the toddler room at nursery but she’s just been bumped up to the preschool room. According to nursery, she is a lovely, caring and empathetic girl. The biting is ancient history. In other words, she has decided to keep EVIL as a weekend hobby.
G and I are torn on a daily basis between bellowing and guffawing at her flagrant deeds. Even as I type, I can hear the aftermath of her throwing a book at her brother’s head upstairs. And it takes a stronger poker face than mine to tell her off for pulling the boy’s chair out from behind him and laughing when he lands on his bum.
Occasionally G and I like to imagine how they’d fare in the apocalypse. Suffice to say we give it 1 week before the girl has eaten her brother, enslaved her parents and foraged all edible goods from the neighbourhood. Bless.