Physician, Heal Thyself

Towards the  end of the  three week Easter break, the Boy revealed that he had an English essay to write.  This is my child who hates English, because it’s so borrrrrrrrrring.  He showed me the planning sheet that he had begun in class:

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and we sat down and we I he managed to get the two introductory paragraphs done before we I he began flailing about and moaning: It’s too hard, I can’t do it, it’s so boring.  As it was the morning after two consecutive sleepovers awake-overs, I admitted defeat but warned him that we’re not leaving it until the Easter weekend. I’m not spending the last weekend of the school break doing homework,  that’s not fair on me. We’ve had all this time and now…  Sorry, I went into automatic tirade for a moment there. Withdrawn.

On Thursday we sat back down to finish the essay. Sure enough, after a few minutes, he resumed the flailing, moaning and whingeing.  This time I was having none of it. I knew that we were off to London the next day and that we had plans for the rest of the weekend. It had to be done. NOW.

So I cajoled, teased, brought cookies, nagged and wheedled until bit by bit, the essay began to emerge and we reached a sort of nirvana at one point when he began contributing independent thought ! voluntarily!  without prodding!

He finished the essay and as we headed back downstairs I found myself saying:

I know that was hard and you didn’t want to do it, but sometimes you just have to put your bum in the chair and even when you don’t feel like it, you just do it. And then it’s done, right?

We reached the end of the stairs, he went outside to kick a football and I sat down on the bottom step and wondered why I’m not following my own advice.

Happy Easter

For me, nothing beats a homemade card, not even chocolate.

 

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The artist behind this creation probably wouldn’t agree with me, although she did give up chocolate for Lent. Today, for her,  it’s all about making up for lost time. Naturally, I’m happy to help  out.

Happy Easter, everyone.

 

 

I Love Words

I love words. Wordplay, puns, new words. Most words. So I was thrilled to see this in a recent Sunday Times magazine colour supplement.

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“Pick a word, any word and redefine it.” It’s almost enough to make me join Twitter.

And the boo suffix reminds me of my all time favourite made up word. It was invented (to my knowledge) in 1989 thereabouts when I was a first year law student on a double date that involved potluck dinner and a game of Balderdash. (I know, what a rebel.) I can’t remember the specific definition but the bluff was that crackaboo was akin to  plumber’s crack, or, as we call it in the UK, builder’s bum.  Peek a boo!

What’s your favourite word, made up or otherwise?

Moreish

Today Missy (not Misty) had a friend over and they made Easter cookies with Nigella’s cut out cookie recipe. I made them four Easter coloured icings – robin’s egg blue, mauve, yellow and pink. Many of the cookies were eaten before they were iced. Collateral damage.

As they munched their work, Missy’s friend said: These are really moreish.

Is that a real word?

Mmm-hmm.

Mum, is more-ish a real word?

I don’t know.  I know what it means, but I don’t know if it’s a real word.

So I checked the dictionary:

Moreish: So pleasant to eat that one wants more.

Huh.

What’s surprising you today?