Tuesday, 30 December 2008

Day 13 in the Big Waffle house

Six pm. We've just come back from a lengthy unsuccessful walk to try and find springs for Lashes to build the prototype of his new invention: a car that bounces over other cars (harnessing the magical properties of ".. bubble wrap. And a cardboard box". I have the designs). He asked us what the most expensive thing in the world was, and we settled on a Matisse (Eh? I am not sure why, it has been a long day) at £20 million. So then he asked if he would have that much money when he was twenty and we said only if he invented something amazing. This is the result. I don't think he wants a Matisse really. But £20 million IS a lot of lizards.

No matter. He hated the walk and wept and said we were torturing him ("all this for NOTHING. I only have the SHORT legs!". It reminded me of my own childhood torture at the hands of the Bearded One, except that truly, Lashes does not know he is born. We were forced to walk for hours through vertical bogs in the driving rain with only a damp oatcake to sustain us. Every day of every holiday. The nearest "civilisation" was the village pub - 14 silent farmers and a depressive landlord prone to deciding not to stock crisps just for sadistic kicks. On New Year's Eve we had to dance round the pond (generating a lifelong fear of ponds, New Years' Eve and of course, all things rural for me). In contrast, Lashes walked for three quarters of an hour around the brightly lit streets with many stops in shops, and got a packet of biscuits from the Italian deli AND a discounted miniature torch from the DIY superstore to make a spider body from. Luxury, I tell you!

Now, the dead eyed, drama school drop outs on the CBeebies channel are doing a horrid Christmas rap (Prog Rock Step Dad is sitting with his back to the tv reading a Russian library book, Space Cadette is asleep with her arse welded to the fire, CFO is checking his spreadsheets, plus ça change) whilst Lashes and Fingers whine in harmony for biscuits. I have spent much of the day in the company of a giant dutch speaking animatronic tap filled with snot. (I like this understated French explanation: " Des personnages comme Boris Burp et Piet Snot vous guident respectivement dans l’estomac et dans le nez". It makes it sound like a legitimate and respectable way to spend time). Lunch was a Nutella sandwich, on my knees looking for a lost Pokémon figurine in a sort of watery ball pool.

Then, when we got home, I got to clean out the fish tank (the CFO calls our smallest fish, the Pontypines - see here - "les Ponkypine" which amuses me almost enough to make it worthwhile), removing globules of slime with my hands and constantly in fear of finding a corpse or five. Soon, I get to act as Triops undertaker. There should be some kind of heavenly reward for this, right? Shame I am an atheist.

Instead, and almost as good, I got Lashes' ideas for the Space Cadette's New Year party costume. The party theme is 'historical or futuristic'.

"A giant pumpkin! A tree with roots AND legs! A T rex! A robot kangaroo!"

(Fingers: "a car with five wheels!")

Yes. This is as good as it got today. But just think, in 2 days I can give you the full, blow by blow account of the "fun" party from hell. To think, I even forgot to tell you yesterday that the Fun Enforcers have asked us for €140 "participation". One hundred and forty euros! I could get a nice pair of Sergio Rossi heels in the sale for that. Pah! This sorry event had better generate good material or I am stealing their spoons. FACT.


Pochyemu said...

140 euros for a party at the neighbours? Which you're not even hosting? WTFFFFFFF kind of friends have you got??! If my friends invite me round and ask me to bring a pudding I start feeling put out...will they be serving gold plated canapes at this thing?? I'd have to politely decline, and frankly state that I have more important things to spend my money on...such as groceries...or shoes..

Lulu LaBonne said...

I just want to make that robot kangarooey, tree rooty, dinosaury costume for you. You'd bounce, roar and clank all night - love it

Persephone said...

Even if I were a party person (I tend to hide in a corner and read, hoping someone will come talk to me), charging someone to come to a party seems a bit (what's the word I'm looking for?)...presumptuous. Maybe I've misunderstood. Is this for charity? Are you being blackmailed? Are these terribly terribly famous people to whom you need to pay a fee in order to associate with them? I've just used my currency converter. Wait a goddam minute, 140 euros is nearly 241 bloody dollars Canadian!!!! Can't you tell them to stuff it? What would Miss Manners say?

Tell Lashes that we made younger daughter walk 3.5 kilometres into downtown Ottawa to see The Tale of Despereux. Then we made her walk 3.5 kilometres back home. In an eastern Ontario winter. She didn't complain once. Sorry, Lashes, you totally lose in the Mean Parents Sweepstakes.

Persephone said...

Maybe I should point out we're in the middle of a city-wide transit strike. That's why we're walking everywhere. Not just out of meanness. Although we are getting a bit cranky....

katyboo1 said...

Bloody hell. Fancy having to pay for punishment. In a sadistic kind of way I quite like it. I may get Tallulah to pay me five quid every time I have to reel out the naughty step. Still, poor you.

Oscar is cross because I won't let him go to bed in his sun glasses and demanded that I smell his stinky feet in revenge. Bad.

I usually hibernate on New Year's Eve. Feel free to come to our house and do fuck all before going to bed at a normal time wearing an eye mask and ear plugs to block out the vestiges of people having enforced fun everywhere.


Z said...

Jesus, darling, if you're forking out that much money you certainly don't have to feel obliged to stay 8 hours so that they feel it's a success. I'd drink myself to a near stupor (to get at least €200 worth) in the first couple of hours and then bugger off home before midnight. Unless the whole event has evidently cost €560 of course. Which I frankly doubt.

JChevais said...

140 Euros? It's cheaper to go out and get smashed in a restaurant on NYEve for that price. Golly.

justme said...

I am almost speechless! Can only suggest that you retaliate by inviting them to a a vegetable carving pary and demand a suitablly escessive 'participation' which you can then spend on shoes. Is this normal in Belgium??

bonnie-ann black said...

paying to go to a party!? i throw a couple of parties a year and haven't even yet asked a guest to bring dessert or wine! i believe in supplying it all.

as for poor, put-upon, lashes -- he needs to learn the song "When I Was a Boy" where the singer talks about how he had to walk barefoot, 50 miles to school, uphill *both* ways... it's very funny. of course, lashes may not see it that way.

i remember as a very small child, my mother would occasionally walk to meet my father at work. about three miles each way. i remember my cousin, who was about 7 at the times, crying the entire way there *and* back, while my brother and sister, who were 4 and 3 at the time walked without complaint, and the only one riding was my sister, who was maybe 9 months old. i never forgot that weird, wailing, endless monotone cry my cousin persisted with. to this day, if i hear a kid make that sound, i feel a tendency towards either murder or running away.

Red Shoes said...

Why stop at spoons?

justme said...

Red Shoes is quite right! Take the whole bloody dinner service!

Anonymous said...

Damn. Steal the spoons anyway. Lashes sounds resourceful enough to use them at some point.

Waffle said...

Gah, I didn't steal anything. I was just so happy to escape alive after 2 hours of singalonga Johnny Halliday. I must be even more stupid than I thought. Oh god. I am really paying for it now. I would be crawling away to a dying hole if it weren't for the spawn.

Lulu - could you? I would love that. I could be persuaded to go to lots of parties with an outfit like that.

Going to be sick now.

JChevais said...

No wonder it'll never end for Johnny! Karaoke!

Tell the truth: YOU sang the "qu'est-ce qu'elle a ma gueule?" song!


JChevais said...

recommenting in case you respond. Damn blogger won't let me choose "follow" comments unless I've already commented and you're my first comment today.

Waffle said...

Actually Mrs C, I went for "AlluMEZ le FEUUUU".
Oh god. Something inside me has died.

JChevais said...


I don't think it's fatal unless, of course, you were wearing leather pants.

Tell me it isn't so.

Waffle said...

No. I can reassure you on that score. Also, it was deuxième degré so it doesn't count, right?

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