What is this? Two blog posts in one week? It must be football season. Normal lack of service will be resumed imminently.
It is the golden hour, when children have been dispatched to bed and I am not yet asleep in my chair. The hour when G and I usually attempt to chug wine and watch unsuitable telly, in the vain hope that we won’t be visited by children claiming to have run out of water / injured themselves with a book / fallen out of bed, etc.
Any child who stays in bed and remains silent gets to put a star in a jar the next morning. Ideally they’d be lying motionless, reciting their times tables and reading educational books …but we are realists. As long as they remain quiet and elsewhere, that’s good enough for a star.
This system started out quite well but is being eroded slowly by sibling rivalry and pro-active star-thwarting. Cue voices drifting down the stairs:
“Mummyyy, James is not in bed!”
“Mummyyy, the only reason I’m not in bed is Matilda pulled my covers off!”
“Mummyyy, Matilda spilled water on my bed again!”
“Mummyyy, James is not letting me cuddle Mario!”
“Mummyyy, James is playing with a balloon!”
“Mummyyy, Matilda gave me a balloon on purpose, to stop me from getting a star!”
Oh, for the love of Netflix!
And then, when they finally tire of being horrors to one another, I hear their sleepy voices saying “I love you” before they fall asleep. The mind boggles.
In other boggling news, the boy has earned a new karate belt this week. (To quote a fellow mum, this is “Karate” in the loosest possible sense.) I attended a grading once and there was very little evidence of “wax on, wax off“. The reality looked more like expressive dance for the under 10s, in which the children earned belts by flailing in roughly the right direction or by waggling their bottoms up and down in an interpretative form of press-ups. The teacher also seems to have invented extra belts, with striped ones to be earned in-between the real belts. (I’m sure this has nothing to do with the fact that there’s a fee every time they go up a belt).
Most weeks they finish their class with a game of dodgeball and boy is surprisingly good at this, having the body mass of a piece of string. I usually peer through the window at pick-up time and witness him dancing flamboyantly around the room with his karate suit gaping open to the waist. It’s only a matter of time before I send him in with “marry me” scrawled across his concave chest.
In girl news, her glued-together forehead seems to have healed ok. We’re still waiting for the glue to fall off and then we’ll see whether there’s a scar. It currently looks like a tiny patch of bird poo.
Bless my gung-ho little monster – she is supremely unbothered by all of this and remains twice the daredevil her brother was at that age. I predict many injuries ahead.
My favourite Hubbleism of the week is this: “Daddy, when I’m big I’m going to be an idiot!”
That’s my girl.