IT IS THE SCHOOL HOLIDAYS!
I’ve been counting down the packed lunches in anticipation of the joy of next week, when I’ll only have to get one child ready in the morning and won’t care about the non-urgent laundry piles or whether we have sliced ham in the fridge or whether boy has done his homework.
I’ve been warned that next year is when parents everywhere will be rapidly Googling “modal verbs” and “frontal adverbials”. For now I simply look forward to 6 weeks without anyone bellowing “SHOES!!!” on loop at 8:45am. And not having to run the daily dog gauntlet outside school, which involves boy being forcibly extricated from a wall of hounds and hurled through the school gates. I swear – the sillier the dog, the more impossible it is to keep the boy moving. And there are a lot of silly dogs in SW London. He goes into complete meltdown before pugs, whippets and chihuahuas. (For full disclosure, we only just made it on time yesterday after I was unable to walk past a spaniel puppy.)
Girl is going to continue at nursery over the summer, apart from when we’re on hol. G’s sanity demands it as he’s doing most of the summer childcare. I weep a little when I remember that we’ve still got another year and a bit of nursery fees but we might as well revel in the ten-hour childcare while it lasts.
As if she wasn’t already enough of a handful, the girl has reached the age of sass, in which she retorts back at you whatever you say. “No, Mummy – YOU’RE a naughty girl!” *sigh* I am getting her a t-shirt with ‘though she be but little, she is fierce‘ printed on it.
Pottermania has reappeared in our house this month after boy finally badgered me into reading ‘The Prisoner of Azkaban‘ to him. My vague noises about waiting another year were pathetic, really, because I have no willpower whatsoever.
We’re just getting to the really exciting parts near the end – it’s so long since I read it I can’t remember the detail of the Voldy bits but it hasn’t proven to be too scary so far. Boy is very excited by the quidditch and doesn’t seem overly traumatised by the dementors. I’d forgotten how funny it was – we were both laughing out loud at the part when the marauder’s map was being rude to Snape.
I’m pretty sure this is where we’ll stop because the next book is likely to go totally over his head. I seem to recall a lot of teenage flirting and secondary school angst. (I wonder what goes through the heads of 6 year olds who’ve read all of the Potter books.)
Meanwhile little Luna Lovegood still has all this to come… bless. She’s currently obsessed with the Mr Men books and managed to insult a visiting neighbour last weekend by pointing at him and saying “You’re Mr Small!” (Pot, meet Kettle.)
Earlier this week the boy entered a reverie of nostalgia when he happened upon an old playlist of Italian kids’ songs on Youtube that he used to be obsessed with. “Mummy! Do you remember when I was little? I used to love these!!” (I swear it is 8 seconds since he was last playing them on loop).
So we all had to relive the joy of ‘Mi scappa la pi pi‘ (about a small child who needs a wee at the worst possible times). And ‘Gatto Nero‘ and ‘Il coccodrillo come fa‘ (croc version of ‘what does the fox say’). Unfortunately, if you leave this playlist unattended, Youtube eventually finds its way to this crazy racist children’s song which looks like something from the Jim Crow Museum, c1920. The perils of the internet.
He’s been at a celebratory sleepover last night with one of his school besties. As a result the flat was strangely quiet this morning and G and I got an unexpected lie in until 9am. (When we eventually surfaced we discovered that Hubble had stealthed into the kitchen and was sitting up on the surface with the reward sweetie jar, stuffing jelly tots into her mouth). Her reaction to being caught was a look of triumphant glee as she waved the now-empty jar. Shame is simply not a word in her vocabulary.
Well, I suppose that’s enough of my empty rambles. This duvet day won’t see to itself…