I have been inviting some of Lily’s new classmates round for playdates. Lask week The Twins came to play. We have seen them around town for a couple of years, accompanied by their devoted Grandpa, who looks after them while their Mummy works. The Twins are tall and boisterous, and increased the noise quotient of our home by several factors. There was a mysterious incident where a photograph fell from a very high shelf narrowly missing the heads of the three children below. I suspect Twin Involvement, but no-one’s telling. Lily had a marvellous time, especially when she and The Twins sat down to draw and they both copied every detail of her lovely mermaid picture, saying all the while, “Oh, we can’t draw as well as you, Lily.” There were homemade marzipan fairy cakes and generally, it was a successful playdate.
The Twins’ Mummy came too, which is unusual for German Mummies (they, like me, usually dump and run gratefully) but she was on sick leave and I guess she wanted to vet me. We had pleasant enough chats, but at the end of two-and-a-half hours had pretty much run out of topics. She was yawning enormously and I was planning supper in my head.
Later, I told my beloved about the playdate.
He: So are you going to be friends with The Twins’ Mummy?
Me: Yes. She’s a very nice lady.
He: So you’re not going to be friends then.
Me: Um. No.