Slackers

We went to see The Lion King at the Lyceum Theatre yesterday. It was a generous gift to the family (and the tickets were pricy); nevertheless, it was priceless to see Eddie's face as the first creatures took to the stage in the Circle of Life number. 

The giraffes and the elephant turned his little mouth into a long 0, and though he played it cool afterwards, he was totally engaged in the whole thing. He was especially impressed with the actor playing young Simba, whom he judged to be about his own age. 

On the train on the way home, this got him reflecting about other child stars. Our conversation went something like this:

Eddie: So Michael Jackson was only ten years old when 'Easy as 1-2-3' came out?

Me: That's right: ten years old. Perhaps you're slacking, and should crack on a bit?

Eddie: Yeah well, I don't have a Jackson 5, do I? I think it's YOU that's slacking, Mum. 

Ouch. And that told me!

Yeeted it!

We're not really a gambling family (though we have a dog called Kempton, and our first date was at Kempton Races, but still, never mind).

We have, however, established a kind of tradition of doing a sweepstake and £1 each way bets as a family on the Grand National.

So Eddie dutifully wrote out all 40 names and we put them in a hat to draw out. But his bet at the bookmakers was Noble Yeats. There was a very good reason for this. 'Yeet' is one of his favourite words, and he's never heard of the Irish poet, after whom I'm guessing the horse was named. 

In case you're not familiar with the term 'yeet', a few found defintions: 

Merriam-Webster say: Yeet is a slang word that functions broadly with the meaning “to throw,” but is especially used to emphasize forcefulness and a lack of concern for the thing being thrown. (You don’t yeet something if you’re worried that it might break.) Yeet is also used as an interjection, most often to express excitement or enthusiasm.

Dictionary.tn explain that:Yeet refers to throwing something away from yourself at high velocity. If someone chucks their water bottle across the room into their bag, they've “yeeted” it. This action is sometimes accompanied by said person yelling “YEET!” as they throw it.

Gilby was on the runner-up, Any Second Now. The noise that was generated in our living room as the two horses battled it out in the home strait might have been heard at Aintree, 250 miles away. 

At 3pm on Saturday afternoon Eddie had no idea what was meant by 'book-makers' odds'. Having picked a winner at 50-1, he's got a pretty good idea now. I just hope that we haven't inadvertently ignited a lifetime a gambling addiction...

Currently reading: Front Desk by Kelly Yang. 

Pumpkin Head

Gertie is dressing up as a (slightly too sexy in my opinion) angel for Halloween. Gilby is trick or treating as a werewolf. But Eddie has rather struggled with an idea for a Halloween costume this year. 

We have got as far as this:

I'm currently losing the battle to persuade him to carve eye holes, so don't be alarmed if you see a pumpkin-head walking into lampposts in a small village in Sussex this evening.

Currently reading: The Man Who Died Twice by Richard Osman

Spoons

We have a new addition to the household: four weeks ago Bendigo arrived to cause chaos.

Right now we have a twelve-week-old golden retriever, and a nearly twelve-year-old golden retriever.

When Bendigo turned up, Kempton was unsurprisingly NOT IMPRESSED. She 'tolerated' the chewing on her ears, the wet puddles on her bed, the lack of manners, the general irritations - but only just. It took eleven days for the frost to thaw, and for more playful wrestling matches to begin. Now they are inseperable.

My hope was that Kempton, with her calm sensibility and seniority would teach the youngster how to behave. In fact, Bendigo has been teaching the old dog some new tricks, including how to dig in the garden. (The garden that we worked so hard on during lockdown.) I imagine that the pair will make it to central Australia at some point next week. So it's lucky that they snuggle up and do this, really:

Spoons: Kempton and Bendigo, nearly 12 years and nearly 12 weeks

 

Currently reading: The Rules by Tracy Darnton

Pride Comes Before A Fall

It was a proud moment when we received Eddie’s school report. His thirst for learning, his mastery of science, his flair with language. My heart swelled. He broke his tablet a little while ago and has missed playing some hideous punchy game where the characters have superpowers like invisibility or unlimited access to dynamite, and have a series of mass brawls. There's probably more to it than that, but that's my non-gaming perception of it.

We presented him with said tablet and he was suitably chuffed. Until the next day when I had to take the thing away from him again. Because we received this:

It reads: Dear parent, Today Eddie has bot been behaving as well as they could in school and spent 15 minutes in Time Out duirng lunch, discussing the reasons and impacts of their behaviour and considering how best to move forward. Reason for Time Out: Fighting at lunch time....

Oh. It's a little crumpled because I think he must have screwed it up when he got it, in a measure of disgust - at letting himself down, I hope.

But we are all are very proud of the performance of the England football team at the Euros, in spite of the sadness at the end of the game on Sunday night. Poor Eddie was inconsolable at the final penalty, until he'd had a good half an hour of Lord of the Rings read to him. Gilby sobbed himself to sleep. They had hoped and dreamed so much. Hearth Mother (and Father) were a little more pragmatic. But Gertie had come across a statistic about how domestic violence rises during an England game and rises more when they lose, so she went to bed worrying about that.

Still, only 55 million pounds needed to complete the sticker book, so we're nearly there.

Currently reading: Spring Cannot Be Cancelled - David Hockney in Normandy by Martin Gayford

Panda or Puppy?

 I caught Eddie googling 'can you have red pandas as pets' this week.

Eddie's internet search

It turns out, that no, you can't. We do, however, look like we may have got ourselves in line for another Golden Retriever puppy later in the year. In a post lockdown situation when puppy demand (and prices) have gone crazy, this is nothing short of miraculous. 

Kempton celebrated her eleventh birthday last month, and while she is still in fine condition and very fit, she has definitely slowed down in the last year. We want to be prepared for when the inevitable time comes.

We thought it would be very exciting to keep it as a surprise for the children. My worry is that now Eddie might be disappointed because a puppy isn't a red panda.

Currently reading: The Girl with the Louding Voice by Abi Daré

Creating Monsters

It's the Easter holidays, we're still (sort of) in lockdown and I have inadvertently created some sort of monster in trying to limit the boys' daily screen-time. 

During term they are allowed to be on 'devices' from when they get home from school until 6pm. For Eddie, that generally means two and a half hours. Gilby will get slightly more some days as he walks home for school, but less than two hours on the days when he does a sporting activity or club after lessons. 

At weekends and during the holiday they are allowed to take the 'two o'clock option' - but they must be off by 5pm.

That means that from waking until the magical hour of 2pm when Fortcraft, Mineleague and Rocketnite (or whatever) are allowed, there are just empty hours to be filled.  The last half-term challenges, while updated for this holiday, have lost their allure. My children do not seem to be magically reciting Hamlet or producing short films. Instead the Boredom Basilisk pays a visit.

Things I read tell me that boredom is good for children.  That it is character-building, invites creativity and problem-solving, encourages the mind to wander and daydream, improves mental health.

It doesn't feel like a good thing when they are lethargic and complaining and entirely unmotivated and exist only for Fortleague (or something) later. Oh, and some foraging for food. That happens. Snacks disappear faster than working pens in this house. 

The return of football training and clubs has done much to release some of the pent-up energy in the household, but it has, in turn, unleashed another monster - the calendar Kraken, with its sinister, impossibly-intertwining limbs. 

A bunch of fixtures that I would have taken utterly in my stride pre-lockdown suddenly seems entirely overwhelming as I try to work out how I can get both boys to football matches in different directions at the same time on a Saturday morning or dash between drops to cricket and dancing on the same evening, - while my own diary column fills up with book groups and stoolball training and committee meetings. 

Like many people I have no desire to return to pre-covid levels of craziness, but I feel powerless to stop it happening at the moment.