Monday, 24 May 2010

Bank holiday redux

The small boys have been amusing me today. I have had a very busy week without them, skittering around Brussels and London and Paris, to facial scans, cosmetic events, pubs, ripping the legs off sponge horses with my nephew, dinner parties, transvestite clubs, sports bars, bland hotels. Today is a bank holiday in Belgium and it was nice just to bicker and play table football and sit in the sun. Well, not IN the sun obviously following my searing recent experiences, but in the general vicinity of it. As for table football, even Fingers is better than me. Soon I will be excluded from competition altogether. They are terribly French and good at all that spinning and slamming. I just flail around approximately and try to remember which colour players I am supposed to be twiddling. The babyfoot was a post-separation impulse buy, and thoroughly unnecessary, if fun. I was speculating today with my adoptive son on whether it could be my version of etchings if I ever get around to dating. 'Come back and see my table football?'. Might that work? Clearly I have no idea.

In this picture Fingers is demonstrating what he wants me to buy him, which is, apparently, a frite that makes music. Possibly, from the demonstration, a frite kazoo? You may note he appears to be wearing a pager, in the manner of a pint sized drug dealer. It is in fact a Pokémon pedometer, possibly the best invention in the (undistinguished but surprisingly long) history of Pokémon since it got him to the park and back without complaint, counting his steps. He scrupulously transfers it to whatever he is wearing (including pyjamas) and keeps us updated on his step tally. The child has space lizard DNA.

Lashes has more or less given up on speech in favour of the above, though sometimes he will tell me a joke or two. I got a few scraps of information about Gulag Work Camp though, including the fact that owls have a wingspan of approximately 8 metres and that they were woken every morning by Lady Gaga. He seems to have discovered lying, interestingly several years after his cousin, my niece, who is 6 months younger than him.

He remains immutably Belgian in his single-minded love of the bande dessinée.They are both serial offenders on this front. We went to the local book shop - miraculously, blissfully open 365 days a year - to kill a few bank holiday minutes and they just sank into this position, from which I was unable to shift them, despite my British awkwardness about the spoiling of page corners, and being In The Way.

Later we went newt hunting in the park. Lashes, who has extraordinary hunting instincts, caught a newt with his bare hands and my kitchen sieve. I was impressed and relieved at the speed with which the operation was completed, fearing several hours of fruitless and increasingly bad tempered dredging.

I like this picture, not least because they are, briefly, not squabbling, united in triumph by a small spotty aquatic lizard. Thanks, newt!

They probably are squabbling here, but you can't tell. There was heated discussion about the optimum number of tadpoles to take home (Lashes: four, Fingers: three, Emma: none. Go on, guess who won. You might be surprised), only broken up by a small dog falling in the pond.

Funny, maddening, small boys. About half an hour after this, they deliberately flooded the bathroom so dramatically I had to send them both to bed with NO POKEMON.


Lisa-Marie said...

This is such a lovely post, made more so by the honesty about the bathroom flooding and bickering.

It is the picture of a family, I love it. I hope when I get to be a parent I am as good at it as you are.

Em said...

Your boys are gorgeous and I love reading your posts about you and them.
Quite keen to hear more about the transvestite club. And the housewarming party??? With pics.

My comment on yesterday's post has disappeared into the black hole of space. I'm pretty sure it was FASCINATING.

Iheartfashion said...

Lovely boys. You're a wonderful mother Emma.

auntiegwen said...

I have to say I am similarly addicted to my pedometer (sadly not pokemon but plain blue from John Lewis which befits a middle aged woman) and I am 43

It'll be flipflops next for him if you're not careful

Marinka said...

I need that Pokemon pedometer. Does it come with a silencer for the kid, by any chance?

Also, I'm guessing Lashes won on the Newt issue. Congratulations!

soleils said...

Another lovely and loving post. Love love love. Thank you, E. And yeah, I can totally imagine my boys going on a newt-catching mission, then naming them (something like Squidgy and Plumpichoo) and making them race each other or something.

Also, I sometimes see your recent Tweets on the right of the blog screen and noticed the flamingo necklace link and that *made* me go on the Liberty's website, which is BAD! And I might have just, sort of, maybe, ordered something (which I will probably return)... And that is even WORSE. All your fault. Not really.
Je n'ai aucun self-control faced with Liberty's world of shiny beautifulness.

Beatrice said...

Could it be that BDs is the best part of their possible belgitude? Providing it doesn't go further than beer at later age...

AnonyGay said...

but if you had let them keep the tadpoles, then the children would have been able to let the tadpoles live in the flooded bathroom. you are stifling your children's creativity.

Alison Cross said...

...back up a bit....transvestite club?

Ali x