It’s official: Today we received notification that Daniel has been accepted at the Primary School we chose.
When I got the email I must be honest, I had a moment. My boy is all grown up now. Lots of change for our little family next year (more on that later), but all good stuff.
So it was in this loving and pensive spirit that I came home tonight to find our Broker and Etienne at the kitchen table. Nobody wishes more fervently that we had money than he does, but he is a really good guy. We have unfortunately been a bitter disappointment to him.
But anyway, Daniel and Isabel were in the bath and came through to the lounge so I could cream and dress them and have a conversation with the Broker at the same time.
Pity though that they were more interested in each other’s private parts tonight than EVER before.
You know how you talk (shout) at your normal volume as that is the usual volume you are acknowledged at? I distinctly heard myself saying
‘Don’t touch your sister’s fanny’
‘Don’t touch your brother’s penis’, but it probable came out as
‘DON’T TOUCH YOUR SISTER’S FANNY’
‘DON’T TOUCH YOUR BROTHER’S PENIS’
And then I also launched into the whole ‘my-body-is-nobody’s-body-but-mine’ speech.
Do I care? Not at all.
And needless to say, the Broker left shortly afterward.
But I think the thing that disturbed me most about today is that when Etienne was reading The Gruffalo to the kids earlier I was in the kitchen reciting it with him. Word. For. Word.