Tonight, whilst the husband and I were trying to eat our dinner:
The 3 year old was crying because she has sore lips – but won’t let us put any vaseline etc on them – so not sure how we’re going to address that.
The 4 year old was trying to write a book. Given she can only spell a few words, this required spelling out (phonetically) every word (as with her current spelling ability it would otherwise have been a somewhat boring book about Evie, Mummy, Daddy and poo……….)
The 11 year old needed help writing her French homework to her new (male!) pen pal in Grenoble. She had forbidden us from assisting with Google translate – but had not banned me from Whatsapp-ing my best friend who lives in the French Alps! My friend’s 6 and 9 year old bi-lingual children thought it was hilarious that I was messaging to confirm how to say ‘I am a girl’ in French! But my ‘A’ in GCSE French was a long time ago, and I’m not drinking at the moment and my French ability is directly proportional to my alcohol consumption!! My liver is still glad I went to Sydney and not Paris on secondment with the accountancy firm I used to work for.
The 10 (I did just write 9 until my niece pointed out he had a birthday last week) year old was doing a maths worksheet about prime numbers. The husband didn’t know what a prime number was until I explained that it’s a number that only divides by 1 and itself (every day’s a school day!) He then realised that at the grand old age of 43 he was in his prime. Boom……..