A father’s ponderings on twins and their devious ways
Another overheard conversation from this morning. I’m ashamed to admit I’m not 100% sure who was taking which part, but anyway, here it is.
“One elephant, two elephant, three elephant…”
“No, that’s seconds. Minutes is like, one……… two……… three………”
“Oh yeah, that’s right.”
They were clocking roughly 3 seconds per minute.
Hannah was wandering around at bedtime tonight singing a little song about car insurance, as you do. Actually, the song was Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend, with the phrase “car insurance!” thrown in at random. Apparently it’s off an advert.
“Do you know what car insurance is, Hannah?” asked Nicola.
“Yeah!” chirped Lauren’s voice from the toilet. The family reconvened at the open door to the smallest room to hear more. “And it’s not the only kind of insurance,” Lauren continued, beginning to count off on her fingers. “There’s pet insurance… life insurance…”
“Home insurance!” chimed Hannah.
“Yeah, home insurance…”
“How do you know all this, girls?” I asked, feeling somewhat impressed.
“Well, you know at Tesco’s, near the till, yeah?” said Lauren. “They’ve got all those leaflets, and there’s pet insurance, life insurance…”
“Home insurance!”
“Yeah, home insurance… and… there’s one you’ve forgotten, Hannah!”
Short comedy pause.
“Peg insurance!”
Whereupon Lauren laughed so much she fell off the toilet.
We found ourselves at the back of a very long queue at the ice cream kiosk today, so the girls started running a relay to the front to report back on the flavours available. The full list they assembled was as follows:
This caused no small amount of excitement in our section of the queue. What scrumptious Wonka-like invention was this “double-lick vanilla”? Was double-lick technology also available on other flavours? We began to scrutinise passing ice creams for a clue as to what double-licking might entail.
Sadly, when we reached the front we realised that what was actually on offer was diabetic vanilla. After that our ice creams tasted strangely disappointing.
Hannah and Lauren have always liked singing and dancing, and Hannah in particular always has a tune in her head and a wiggle in her step. It has been noted that she will sing whilst brushing her teeth and usually eats with at least one foot on the floor so she can tap out a rhythm.
The other night they were late to bed and I was having to use Strict Dad Mode to achieve the desired result. I gave Hannah a kiss and a cuddle then told her to go straight to sleep. She nodded and snuggled down. But as soon as I turned round to Lauren’s bed a muffled singing noise struck up behind me.
I spun back round to see Hannah with both hands clamped over her mouth. “I’m sorry Daddy!” she pleaded. “I’m trying to stop singing but I just can’t!”
Anyone who’s seen The Sound of Music will realise you’d have to be a Mother Superior with a heart of stone to try and separate a girl from her singing, so I dropped the Strict Dad act and left her to it. Ten minutes later they were both fast asleep.
Family and friends will already be aware of Silvery, the frog who has taken up residence in our greenhouse. That’s a picture of Silvery on the right, taken by Nicola.
I don’t know what’s so special about our greenhouse all of a sudden but Silvery has recently been joined by two more frogs, not to mention four newts who all now live under one of the growbags. Hannah and Lauren took on the job of naming this amphibious army and were not daunted by the task. So, we now have:
Frogs: Silvery, Goldy and Rainbow
Newts: Emma, Gemma, Ella and Cinderella
The other day I showed Hannah and Lauren the beautiful dimples they both have right at the bottom of their backs, one each side of the spine. They had great fun tickling each other’s dimples until, as usual, it all spiralled out of control and the police had to be called.
This morning Hannah appeared in our bed in her heatwave-friendly birthday suit and stretched out on her tummy. Her hand went wandering over her back until she found her dimples but at this point she suffered a sudden vocabulary malfunction.
“Mummy,” she said, “did Daddy tell you we’ve got bottom nostrils?”
Hannah and Lauren went on a school trip last week (a day out at Lyme Park). Here is the list of things to take that Hannah brought home from school. (Click it for a bigger version.)
List for the trip
I’ve overheard two superb bits of chit-chat from the girls today. The first was this morning as they were in the bathroom supposed to be getting washed. I have no idea what the context was and I don’t want to know. Context would only spoil it. All Nicola and I heard was a small voice pondering, “What if a baby calls the rat Alan?”
The second was in the car on our way home from school via the park. It’s a lovely hot day and Hannah and Lauren had been running rings round me playing tag. From the back seat, Hannah’s voice piped up: “When I’m hot, this booby hurts… but when I’m cold, this booby hurts.” They both cackled about it for ages, and Hannah now refers to the left and right sides of her chest as “hot booby” and “cold booby” respectively.
Today, obviously, it’s hot booby that’s causing her the most discomfort.
I’ve just sat through a pretty uninspiring first half between Poland and Ecuador with Hannah and Lauren - the girls’ first exposure to international football. I would liken the experience to trying to pay attention to the first 45 minutes of a corporate fraud trial with a bag of angry wasps in your pocket. I managed to miss Ecuador’s only goal because Hannah decided at that precise moment that she needed to take my photograph.
To be fair, though, they were pretty attentive and most of the distractions came from football-related questions. Here are just a few that I was called upon to resolve using my expert football knowledge.
Q: Why are lots of the football players little children?
A: It’s only the grown-ups that are footballers. The little boys just come on at the start to sing for a bit then they go off again.
Q: Why is that man holding his heart? Is he poorly?
A: No, he’s singing his national anthem so it’s a bit like he’s saluting.
Q: Why is that goalkeeper running around and playing football and not staying in the goal?
A: That isn’t the goalkeeper, he’s called the referee.
Q: What’s a referee?
A: He’s like the teacher. He makes sure that everybody’s playing nicely.
Q: Is England the ones in white or the ones in yellow and blue and red?
A: Neither, England play tomorrow. This is Poland in white and Ecuador in yellow.
Q: Are Brazil playing?
A: No, just Poland and Ecuador.
Q: What was the goalkeeper holding up then?
A: He’s the referee, sweetheart. It was a yellow card, which means somebody’s been naughty, like tripping someone up. If you get two yellow cards then you have to go off. Or if you’re really really really naughty he shows you the red card and you’ve got to go off straight away.
Q: Do we want Poland to win or the other ones?
A: We don’t mind really. But hey, who will we want to win tomorrow??
Q: Brazil?
A: No, England! [slightly peevishly - we must have been through this a million times now]
Q [about 10 minutes later]: Is there an orange card?
A: No, just red and yellow.
Q: So what happens if someone’s really really naughty?
A: They get the red card and they have to go off.
Q: I thought the red card was for really really really naughty?
A [after long thoughtful pause]: There’s just red and yellow, Hannah.
Q: Why does the goalkeeper wear those big gloves?
A: Because he’s the only one who’s allowed to touch the ball with his hands. [This rash assertion was successfully challenged during a subsequent throw-in.]
Q: So the rest can’t touch it with their hands?
A: No, otherwise they’ll get a yellow card. [Is it yellow or red? I'm past caring.]
Q: What if they touch it with their legs?
A: That’s fine, legs are OK. And heads, and chests. In fact they can touch it with any part of their body except their arms and hands.
Q: Any part?
A: Except their arms and hands.
[There is sniggering]
Q: Even their widgies?
A: No, I think that might hurt. Just watch.
Q: Daddy, what’s the off-side rule?
A: Oh look, girls, bed time!
OK, I made up the last one but I swear the rest are genuine. 2 matches down, only 62 to go…
The girls were practising putting their faces under the water in the bath tonight. This conversation followed a few minutes later.
Hannah: I don’t want to put my head under the water now Daddy.
Me: No, that’s fine. There’s shampoo in the water now and that’ll hurt your eyes.
Hannah: Yeah, and if you put your eyes in shampoo you go blind!
Me: No you don’t, it’ll just sting. You won’t go blind.
Hannah: Yeah! But! If you put your eyes in THORNS you DEFINITELY go blind!
Me: Yes, thorns would probably do the trick.
Lauren: Yeah, because that’s what happens to the prince in Rapunzel, isn’t it Hannah?
Hannah: Yeah.
Thankfully there were no thorns in the bath on this occasion and the girls made it out with their sight intact. But it just goes to show that sound home safety advice can be found in the unlikeliest places.
I got a text message last night from my brother Simon (pictured above). Simon is dad to 9-year-old Beti who has been mentioned elsewhere on this blog.
Beti just suggested I phone you, put on a silly voice and say “Hello, I’m phoning about that mustard you ordered.” She’s been giggling ever since.
It sounds like the makings of a classic practical joke to me! But it also has me thinking, rather dauntedly, about the future combined forces of Hannah and Lauren at that age. The signs are not good. Their 5-year-old arsenal of trickery already includes:
Once they gain Beti’s level of sophistication I suspect there will be no limit to their evil.
There was a raging debate going on in our bed at 7 o’clock this morning. It went something like this:
Hannah: I’m Darth Vader! RAAAARRGGHHH!!! (Note: this is a Darth Vader who wears a nightie and roars like a tiger. No heavy breathing required.)
Parents “shriek” with “fright”.
Lauren: I’m Barbie!
Parents sigh with relief.
Hannah: I’m Darth Vader!!
Lauren: No-o! I’m Darth Vader now!
Hannah: OK.
Lauren: I’m Darth Vader!! RAARGGHHHHH!!!
Shriek!
Hannah: I’m Darth Vader!! RAA…
Lauren: No! You’re Barbie!
Hannah: But I want to be Darth Vader!
Simultaneously:
Lauren: Mummy, Hannah won’t be Barbie!
Hannah: Daddy, it’s my turn to be Darth Vader!
And so on, forever. It’s funny how quickly we can be out of bed some days.
Hannah and Lauren’s reading is really coming on these days, and they’re bringing more and more advanced reading books home from school. Yesterday Lauren was doing a lovely job of reading Sleeping Beauty. I wonder if you can spot the one word she stumbled on?
“Can I try it?” said the princess.
“Of course,” replied the old woman. The princess reached over, but the moment her finger touched the spinach she fell into a deep sleep.
The girls are cock-a-hoop today because the dinner ladies’ strike means they can take lunch boxes to school… with eggy sandwiches. We’ve been resisting the pressure to switch from hot dinners to packed lunches for over a year now. Our argument is that making packed lunches takes time and will make us (even) late(r) for school in the mornings. Countering this is Hannah and Lauren’s considered position that but… but… but X takes packed lunches, and so does Y, and even Z doesn’t have hot dinners any more, and we’ve got pink lunch boxes with pictures of princesses on them, and awhh, it’s not fair!
You can see how finely balanced this thing is.
We’re expecting a full-on assault at home time tonight, with stories of how much fun they had, and how healthy they feel, and how honesly, the eggy sandwiches haven’t made them parp any more that usual. It’s going to be tough. Any suggestions for a counter-attack will be welcome, but please make it quick.
A conversation with one of the girls yesterday shortly after taking the attached photo with my cameraphone.
“I wish I had a phone like that.”
“You don’t need a phone, sweetheart, they’re only for grown-ups.”
“Where did you get it from?”
“From a shop.”
“Did they have another one exactly the same?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Well when I’m a mummy can you take me to that shop and show me so I can buy that one?”
“What a terrific idea. Of course I can.”
It’s lovely to think I’ll still be needed. An extra bonus point to the first reader who can correctly identify the twin in question… 