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:
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:
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| Spoons: Kempton and Bendigo, nearly 12 years and nearly 12 weeks |
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:
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
I caught Eddie googling 'can you have red pandas as pets' this week.
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
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.
Lockdown 3 through winter is tedious. None of the novelty of the first one, less of the fear now that we've all had covid, and very little outside play because of the cold. It has, though, led to an increase in reading in our house - particularly for Eddie.
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| Breakfast with Frodo in December |
With his Christmas money he chose to invest in a selection of Beano annuals that he reads over and over again.
After zipping through The Hobbit last year, we are still reading Lord of the Rings together by night. I have a feeling that will go on for many months. We have only read about two hundred pages so far - no need to even bend the spine of the book yet.
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| Cereals with Podkin |
But is a fantasy series by Kieran Larwood that has really captivated him. They are his 'favourite series of books ever in the world.' He read the first book, about a character called 'Podkin', three times in a row. It was the least I could do to secretly order the next story in the series.
When the second book arrived he threw his arms around me in a spontaneous demonstration of happiness. Yesterday he spent a solid three hours reading it in the morning and then wouldn't come and eat his lunch until he had finished the final seven pages of book two. When he eventually did come and sit down he was very quiet. He told me afterwards that it was because he nearly cried at the end so he couldn't really talk.
This morning he skipped cheerfully down to breakfast with book three. 'Cereals with Podkin are a great combination, aren't they?' he said.
Now, in fairness, the weather is rubbish so he can't go outside, and he is too young to meet a friend outdoors as his siblings are able to do from time to time. 'Screentime' doesn't begin until 3pm in the afternoon and all devices are banned until then, so there really is very little to 'do' but read, write or draw.
Still. His writer-English teacher mum is very happy. Especially since he now wants to be a 'bard' when he grows up. Cheers, Podkin!
Currently Reading: A Promised Land by Barack Obama (but should probably switch to The Legend of Podkin One Ear :o)
It has been a while since we have had any linguistic funnies. Now that the little people are all growed up, those little language slips and mishaps get fewer and further between.
There was Eddie pronouncing the character of 'Ginny' in Harry Potter as though it was 'Guinea' - which was mildly amusing, but also heartwarming. One of those moments when someone is reading beyond things that have appeared in their spoken vocabulary, and therefore don't deserve to be laughed at.
We did have an entertaining moment the other evening, though, in a music discussion. Gertie was talking, as she mostly does these days, about One Direction. She described one of the album tracks that Eddie knew well, and explained that he was familiar with it because it was a 'single'. Eddie was absolutely adamant that it wasn't. He got crosser and crosser at Gertie's use of the word, claiming that it most definitely wasn't a single. His explanation?
'Because the whole band sang.'
Poor Eddie got most upset as we collapsed in helpless laughter. But it's not terribly surprising that a 9-year-old doesn't know what a single is. I suspect it is a term that might fall out of use entirely before too long. I'd better not get started on spiders - or the vinyl single middles spindle jukebox adapters that I used to have to buy in order to play my records.
Currently reading: The Midnight Library by Matt Haig
