Thanks for the collective shove. Here in no particular order are my somewhat cryptic responses to your prodding.
I read a post in a parenting blog recently about the best ways to get your children to tidy up their rooms and realised that I must learn to be more directive in my instructions. Apparently, it's not enough to say, or even shout, "tidy up your room or else." Who'd have thought? You have to say, put all the playmobils in this box, that's wonderful darling. Now put all of the dead animals here." Actually, I should probably start with teaching by example. Soon the children will have to advise me on the best method for shoving a year's worth of academic bumph into three tiny drawers.
Z, has had a haircut. He looks a bit like Oor Wullie.
He also received his first Oor Wulliesque report from primary school. Apparently the French school system has yet to hear of positive reinforcement for 6-year-olds; learning through play; and even the value of liaising with parents before the last day of school. Although the grades are all perfectly all right, the comments are terse : "Z. n'a pas encore compris qu'il n'est pas à l'école pour s'amuser". They'll be sending him down the mines next.
Since I last wrote, Bordeaux has been made a UNESCO World Heritage Site. That's good, I think. I must go and visit some of the sights before the expected hordes of new tourists descend on us.
E. has turned five. She was 4.3 kg when she was born. That's a big baby. But she shot out like a torpedo. (My beloved brother tells me I really should not boast about how easily she shot out. I can't think why.)
Last night we went to her dancing school gala which lasted for almost THREE HOURS. It turned out that we had signed up not just to see little girls dancing bits of the Nutcracker Suite (I think that's what it was) but also adults who should have known better sharing the results of a year's worth of singing classes, and obese teenagers doing sullen hiphop routines trying to look cool and uninterested while at the same time pulling their t-shirts down over their wobbly tummies. Needless to say E's brief but perfect skip across the stage and graceful jump out of a box made it all worth it.
We've lived in this house since 1998, and we still don't have any toilet-roll holders. Is that bad?
Right, I think that's me back on the road again.