Stop Press! Family Eats Out In Restaurant Without Row

It has taken the best part of eleven years, but we have finally achieved what seemed an impossible dream: a pleasurable family restaurant meal!

Conditions were good. Children had been for a swim so they were tired, and enjoyed an early Easter egg hunt, so that they were content. We picked a local Italian restaurant where the barman was superb. He allowed Eddie to 'sample' different cordials until he was 'happy' with his drink, then brought him some colouring pencils and a menu to colour in.

The children's meals were actually of a decent size so that they were full by the time they had finished. So much so that Eddie was unable to eat his pudding, and even Gilby's (aka Mr Creosote) hollow legs were full up. 

And the wine was excellent which helped Hearth-mother and Hearth-father's convivial moods. There was no one out of their seat, no spilled drinks, dropped cutlery, farting, belching, pinching, kicking or otherwise typical behaviour. No hissed warnings through gritted teeth, or threats that someone might be eating in the car. 

Now, we had better practise again, (to make sure it wasn't a fluke! 😉)

Another Budding Literary Career

Following in the footsteps of Great-Hearth-Aunt, Eddie's literary exploits continue to exceed expectation. Next week his riddle poem is published in Young Writers - Little Riddlers South East Poets. Today, his classmates helped performed a song about a penguin that he had written. Given Eddie's already well-developed propensity for self-promotion, these latest achievements make him nearly unbearable. In fact, he was most put-out that the class were only going to sing one verse during the assembly when he had gone to the trouble of writing a whole two more. Didn't they know who he was?

It was a treat to watch this assembly as all three of them were actually recognised. Gilby as a maths champion and Gertie for last weekend's swimathon where the team of six swam 117 lengths in an hour. Proud mummy moments.

How to Write a Good...Blarb

The writing theme continues in one of my favourite moments from Mothers' Day. In a clear step up from text messages, Eddie made a card for me. It was a card with a difference, though: It had its own, erm, 'blarb'.

In case your deciphering-a 6-year-old's-handwriting-spectacles are not to hand, it says:

Small boy cald Freddie rites mothers day card to his mum.

And there's not really much to argue with about that. Killer blurb-writing, I say.

In place of the usual flowers or chocolates, my gift was a brown moleskin notebook. They know me well, this family of mine. But another treat of the day was watching Eddie and Gertie perform in an Irish dancing version of Grease. Yes, you did read that right.

Mini-Danny definitely enjoyed having his Pink Ladies in tow.

And, finally, Hearth-Father got to celebrate too, with the keenly anticipated arrival of a hot-off-the-press memoir detailing his mother's childhood in India - courtesy of Great-Hearth-Aunt! Stories of his mother and her sisters dodging cobra-bites, collecting pods from the Tamarind tree, playing with pet goats and riding in a gharry provided welcome insight into his roots. Hearth-Father, it seems, is descended from three generations who served the Raj.

Currently reading: Front Verandah - Back Verandah by Anne Grieger. (When I can wrestle it from Hearth-Father.)