It’s what I think of as a good weekend, ie Steve’s not working and although we’d planned to do something more dynamic we’ve once again settled into an idle domestic chuntering around sort of day. I reason that if we don’t leave the house we can’t spend any money which is pretty vital at the moment and god knows there’s enough to do around here. Not to mention bloody homework..
This weekend Zeph’s researching and writing something about Portugal. He was delighted after a bit of googling to discover an artist I like, Paula Rego, who he recognises from prints and books around the house is portuguese and asks if he can take one of my books in to school with his homework to share with the class. As I’m slightly distracted by a nappy change at the time I agree without thinking. Generally I feel pretty chuffed with his research skills and enthusiasm and say this to Steve, who luckily is slightly more on the ball than me, and goes to retrieve the book already in Zeph’s bag.
Steve: “I don’t think this is a good idea…..”
Me: “for god’s sake, I mean the pictures are a little dark maybe but so are nursery rhymes really…” more chat along these lines that S completely ignores as he flicks through the book.
Steve: decisively “No – I don’t think so.”
Laura: “Honestly, don’t be so suburban.”
Steve: turning the book to face me, “What’s that dog doing?”
Laura: slightly defensively “He’s bowing to the lady..”
Steve: “No Laura, the other dog, the one in the background behind the goat..”
Laura: “Oh. Do you know when it says riding a goat in Old Mother Hubbard I always imagined something else.”