We semi-gatecrashed a birthday party (my sister’s kids were invited).
Anne: Xavvi and I were playing today.
Me: Mm-hmm (in the way that one who isn’t really paying that much attention mm-hmms).
Anne: He was the King, and I was his bird.
Me: I’m sorry, what?! … Did he tell you that?
(He’s Polish, so that would be weird.)
Anne: No, I told him. I was his pet bird. A parrot!
Anne’s best mate is over after school. They’re having a snack, and I ask what they want to do after they eat it.
“Eat some more snacks,” I’m cheerfully told.
Someone get that girl a Singapore passport and a map of all the hawker centres.
I’ve just spent what felt like an eternity giving Anne tips while she solved a jigsaw, something in which she’s never shown any interest before.
I wish I could be more patient.
Currently sitting up in bed with this little girl sleeping on me like a baby monkey, because she has a bad cold and can’t get to sleep any other way.
Anne’s experiencing her second week of school, and she has now made friends (“On the pirate ship!” Oh, if only my primary school had one of those) with twin boys who — while not in her actual class at school — happen to be in the same after-school swim class. Their mum said that they wanted her to have a sleepover at theirs.
Oh, the innocence of youth.
Also, that means today’s swimming lesson involved the three of them mucking about enough to get gently told off by the coach. This could be a long year, pool-wise.
I swear, these little
fuckers shitebags people are trying to drive me insane. The only things they both like are fries / chips and chicken nuggets, everything is is literally love-hate, i.e. one loves and the other hates.