And so it begins.
I hadn't expected to be a part of the September first crowd milling about Platform 9 3/4 for a few years yet, but perhaps this is a blessing in disguise to prepare me for the day My Angel abandons me for the sake of her magical education. I likely won't perform as admirably as I did on Thursday, but that's rather to be expected. At any rate, all four bratlings old enough for Hogwarts have been safely bundled off. I did enlist the help of a few elves to manage the trolleys, as pushing our luck that far never ends well. Jack was absolutely beside himself at all the activity on the platform, which Potter found endlessly precious. Thomas and Lucas wanted nothing to do with the shame born of minding a firstie, so once Jack boarded the train he was left in Daisy's capable hands.
We did drop a small purse of coins in everyone's hands before they boarded, because I am not above petty bribery (and it isn't a secret, since the bloody Prophet photographers captured every moment of it). I fully expect everyone but Daisy to have spent the lot on sweets from the tea trolley the second their arses hit their seats. I know I certainly did. Anyhow, as Potter predicted, Jack was sorted into Hufflepuff. His new owl brought us a multi-page letter Saturday afternoon filled with news about every single thing he had done and seen since arriving, and Potter Spellotaped it to the refrigerator, presumably so that he can see it every time he fetches more bacon to fry in honor of The Royal Bacon Society's International Bacon Day (an occasion which shall be extended indefinitely in this house upon threat of death).
But the Widdletonians weren't the only ones starting up a new school year this week: Muffin and Lentil were also subjected to the exquisite torture of learning. It's only been a matter of days, and already I'm exhausted by it. Perhaps it wouldn't be so wrong to hire a professional tutor to threaten them with lack of pudding if they don't finish their lessons, because neither of them take me very seriously. Morsel is her usual manipulative self, and she's quickly conned The King into siding with her sneaky plots to avoid work. My well of patience is only so deep, demon spawn. Test me enough, and you'll find yourselves in school with the rest of the riffraff in this neighborhood.
We did drop a small purse of coins in everyone's hands before they boarded, because I am not above petty bribery (and it isn't a secret, since the bloody Prophet photographers captured every moment of it). I fully expect everyone but Daisy to have spent the lot on sweets from the tea trolley the second their arses hit their seats. I know I certainly did. Anyhow, as Potter predicted, Jack was sorted into Hufflepuff. His new owl brought us a multi-page letter Saturday afternoon filled with news about every single thing he had done and seen since arriving, and Potter Spellotaped it to the refrigerator, presumably so that he can see it every time he fetches more bacon to fry in honor of The Royal Bacon Society's International Bacon Day (an occasion which shall be extended indefinitely in this house upon threat of death).
But the Widdletonians weren't the only ones starting up a new school year this week: Muffin and Lentil were also subjected to the exquisite torture of learning. It's only been a matter of days, and already I'm exhausted by it. Perhaps it wouldn't be so wrong to hire a professional tutor to threaten them with lack of pudding if they don't finish their lessons, because neither of them take me very seriously. Morsel is her usual manipulative self, and she's quickly conned The King into siding with her sneaky plots to avoid work. My well of patience is only so deep, demon spawn. Test me enough, and you'll find yourselves in school with the rest of the riffraff in this neighborhood.