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On Being Boring

I moved from London to Brussels with my husband nearly 10 years ago. When I told people we were moving, the news was greeted with bemusement: why did we want to move to a city that was possibly the most boring place on earth? Ten years later and I can honestly say that I've had more fun here than I ever did living in London. It might not be the most exciting city in the world but it is a fantastic place to live. It is full of hidden treasures that you probably never get to see as a tourist: wonderful shops, amazing food, great museums and galleries, beautiful architecture, a forest (yes, a whole forest), and so much more... And if that doesn't convince you, well, get on a train and you could be in Paris, Amsterdam, Cologne or, yes, London in no more than a couple of hours... Which other city can you say that about?

Charlie’s Turn

I don’t know how, but I’ve managed to build up quite a back log of pictures to post. I’ve just edited what I think are some really lovely pictures of Amélie sitting by the window filing her nails (a habit she’s learnt from her father, I hasten to add), but she was the star of my last post, so I figure it’s Charlie’s turn in the spotlight now.

 

Isn’t he lovely? Isn’t he? In his uncoordinated stripy t-shirt, stripy jammy pants, and stripy socks, stuffing a pot-full of tiddlywinks into his back pocket she he could sneak them out of grandma’s house and into (and all over) our car. Still think he’s lovely? Well then shall I tell you what he did this afternoon? I shall. He had just got out of the bath (having been treated to a trip to the gelateria and having completely covered himself in dark chocolate ice-cream). We had been for a very long walk in the forest earlier in the day so I was letting him veg out on the sofa, starkers because that’s his favorite way of being. Amélie was reading, Hanno was cooking and I was playing with my pictures. It suddenly dawned on me that he had been very quiet for quite a long time so I asked Amélie if he was ok. What followed was a long, high-pitched expression of dismay. At some point, Mr Monkey Pants had left the sofa and gone into Amélie’s room where he had found the bottle of bright green nail-varnish I had bought her as a treat for halloween. He had then resumed his position on our sofa, still in the buff, and was slowly pouring the bright green varnish all over his tummy and… erm… wiggly bits, quite possibly getting high on the fumes at the same time. Sigh… Having gingerly removed the bottle from his now quite sticky mitts, I carefully lifted him off the sofa hoping to limit the carnage as much as possible. I then lay him on an old towel on the floor in the bathroom and tried to scrub him down. Here’s what I learnt: toddler skin adsorbs nail-varnish like nobody’s business; unless you pin your child down, their reaction to being covered in nail-varnish will be to try and rub it off – this does not help matters; two year olds do not like being pinned down; when given the choice between scrubbing down a screaming, squirming child with solvent and letting them live in a permanent state of greenness, you’ll pick greenness; and lime-colored willies are quite funny, actually. So, still think he’s lovely? Yeah, me to. Despite myself.

16 June 2013 - 5:44 PM amelia - hilarious!!! Any idea when he will be back to his usual colour? Nail varnish is my nightmare, i refuse to let it in the house (that and glitter) I do still love him though, look at that little cheeky face!!!

16 June 2013 - 7:45 PM WSM` - I'm still looking for the feet and the rest of the tiddlywinks from that game. Kept finding them in every drawer I opened but no feet! Hope he doesn't get too excited about anything, nail varnish goes quite hard ...!!

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