Saturday, 21 June 2008

The weekend in statistics

Le weekend! A break from eurononsense. I imagine it will break down something like this.

Shouting 20%

I have lost my voice. In all logic this should be some obstacle to shouting. In reality it just means huskier shouting. There is so much to shout about! I can't just, you know, not. I have fairly expressive (or 'scary' as others have described them) facial expressions but nothing quite conveys "PUT THAT BLOODY FISH BACK IN THE TANK" quite like shouting exactly those words. I mean, seriously. Even Marcel Marceau would be hard pressed to convey the necessary urgency. If, however, anyone thinks they can think of appropriate mute routine, I am all ears. And more importantly, eyes.



Sitting on loo floor as poo midwife 40%

Neither of my children is prepared to go to loo unaccompanied. I spend all my time sitting on the loo floor making appropriate comments. Fingers uses his loo time for meditative exchanges on topics of general interest. It's a bit like Thought for the Day but with more violence.

F: When I was punished, Madame made me think about why I hit Edouard over the head

J: Is that right sweetheart? You know hitting is wrong and all that, remember, blah blah. Did you decide why?

F: Edouard is vilain.

J: Um, ok.



Lashes is all about the act itself. Live. Blow by blow. Slowly. Think back to those Komodo dragons. The full, slow horror.

L:The caca is coming. I can feel it here [gestures to waist area]

J: Um, Lashes, that might take a while, no? Can I come back in, say twenty minutes?

L: No. It is coming quickly.

...

[sparing you ten minutes of graphic nonsense]

J: Anything, you know, happening darling?

L: It's coming! Out of my zizi!

J: Christ I do hope not.

L: Yes! It is! Can you see it?

J: Er, yup. Just, you know, concentrate eh? On the, um, doing. Push and all.

I wouldn't be much of a birth partner would I. Note please, any of my friends who are planning to spawn.



A variant today involved all three of us sitting in there together listing all the things that had ever crapped on me.
L: The toad at the zoo!
F: And me!
L: That seagull!
F: And me!
L: The tortoise in the pet shop last week!
F And [struggles to find the word] ... that ..
L: What? You?
F: The .... bat.
L: No, that was pipi



Digging for tortoises 20%
So many missing reptiles. So many giant turdlike slugs lurking ready to make me writhe with disgust. Which stupid bastard told us tortoises were low maintenance? Ak ak ak ak.

Being rudely awoken 5%
6am, tiny scratchy nails. Tickling my feet. I mean, seriously.

Eating Jane Asher chocolate chips directly from the packet 10%
Importing these into Belgium could get me into serious trouble. This is why I have to eat all 750g now, in one go. Before the Belgian chocolate police come for me. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth with British chocolate. Here's hoping the neighbours don't denounce me. It would mean instant deportation.

This leaves me fifteen percent to play with. Any ideas lovely internet? And what are your weekend stats?

6 comments:

Parisgirl said...

Very funny! Same toilet thing with La Fille except I get asked to "push her tummy". She then comes out of loo and tells everyone she has just done caca. Great in a restaurant.

girl with the mask said...

I am so with you on the whole 'using words over facial expressions' thing. Nothing says 'Fuck off' better than saying, FUCK OFF. Although obviously not to children. That wouldn't be nice.

Jaywalker said...

Quite agree Girl. Sometimes nothing but fuck off quite says it. Not even 'le doigt d'honneur' (which btw is such a weird phrase).
Parisgirl - When does this poo enabling stop do you think? Sixteen? Twenty five?

Marianne said...

I would love to see the Belgian chocolate police - I imagine their whole uniform would be edible, with an awesome chocolate truncheon to boot.

I think it's so sweet you do that for your children, they're going to love reading this entry in years to come.

Hope you find the tortoises!

Jaywalker said...

Hi Marianne

I would certainly hope for chocolate moustaches. Facial hair is de rigeur. Though chocolate mitraillettes rather than truncheons over here svp. Though any opportunity to use your wonderful phrase 'awesome chocolate truncheon' must be seized.

Whilst of course my children will indeed hate and resent me, I can only say, I have spared them (and you) the worst.

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