Lamingtons and parental disappointments
Originally published at http://www.notmymother.net . You can comment there or here.
Happy Australia Day! Dave has taken the day off because he says it’s unAustralian to work today. He only became Australian two years ago but I guess this, like the second verse of Advance Australia Fair, is something he learned for the exam.
I am making lamingtons! It is my first time. I’m following this recipe and so far I’ve made the sponge. It seems a little bit thinner than I expected (my pan was a teensy bit too big both ways), but maybe this is so we can use jam to stick two pieces together. The recipe doesn’t call for jam, which seems strange. Also apparently I should have started yesterday, which explains all the baking on my Facebook then. (Jamie Oliver says I can put it in the fridge to dry it out, so I’ll try that.) Later when B gets home we’ll do the bit with the chocolate and coconut, which reminds me I’d better go buy chocolate and coconut this afternoon.
Also jam.
This morning B got to dress in green and gold (“ugh, that’s green and YELLOW, mum.”) for school, and I attempted to teach her the official prayer for today:
This here’s the wattle, the emblem of our land.
You can stick it in a bottle, you can hold it in your hand.
Amen.
But she refused. Honestly, I don’t know what to do with her. This is typical. We did a little cruise a few weeks ago, just 5 days up to Thailand and back, and she was loving the kids’ club and their activities until one night they were having a pirate party. She was worried and said, “what if they want us to do swordfighting and I don’t want to?”
I said, “so just say, ‘I don’t want to do that.'”
“But what if they make me?”
“Well then you say: HELLO! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father. Prepare to die!”
“I’m not going to say that.”
“Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father. Prepare to die!”
“No!”
“How about, ‘never go up against a Sicilian when death is on the line’?”
“Stop it.”
“To the pain!”
“MUM.”
Sometimes it is inconcievable that she is my child.
Happy Australia Day! Dave has taken the day off because he says it’s unAustralian to work today. He only became Australian two years ago but I guess this, like the second verse of Advance Australia Fair, is something he learned for the exam.
I am making lamingtons! It is my first time. I’m following this recipe and so far I’ve made the sponge. It seems a little bit thinner than I expected (my pan was a teensy bit too big both ways), but maybe this is so we can use jam to stick two pieces together. The recipe doesn’t call for jam, which seems strange. Also apparently I should have started yesterday, which explains all the baking on my Facebook then. (Jamie Oliver says I can put it in the fridge to dry it out, so I’ll try that.) Later when B gets home we’ll do the bit with the chocolate and coconut, which reminds me I’d better go buy chocolate and coconut this afternoon.
Also jam.
This morning B got to dress in green and gold (“ugh, that’s green and YELLOW, mum.”) for school, and I attempted to teach her the official prayer for today:
This here’s the wattle, the emblem of our land.
You can stick it in a bottle, you can hold it in your hand.
Amen.
But she refused. Honestly, I don’t know what to do with her. This is typical. We did a little cruise a few weeks ago, just 5 days up to Thailand and back, and she was loving the kids’ club and their activities until one night they were having a pirate party. She was worried and said, “what if they want us to do swordfighting and I don’t want to?”
I said, “so just say, ‘I don’t want to do that.'”
“But what if they make me?”
“Well then you say: HELLO! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father. Prepare to die!”
“I’m not going to say that.”
“Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father. Prepare to die!”
“No!”
“How about, ‘never go up against a Sicilian when death is on the line’?”
“Stop it.”
“To the pain!”
“MUM.”
Sometimes it is inconcievable that she is my child.