The not very wild bunch

Skirts!!!

Emily and Phoebe need to wear skirts for their end of year dance/celebration/event thingy. (This year, we have been promised, it will only last an hour and a half. Hmmm, I'll believe it when I see it, since these things have a habit of dragging on until close to midnight...)

Sunday

Nevi casts her vote, and then for the first time in maybe eight years, we go to Loutraki for the day.

Back to Athens in the evening to take the kids to see My Big Fat Greek Cliche My Life in Ruins. Which they liked a lot.

Bad fairy (part 2)

It is morning.

I am working on the computer and Emily is standing in the doorway of the study watching me. "Dad, I'm bored," she says. A few minutes pass. Then: "Hey, Dad, I wonder if the tooth fairy remembered to come last night!"

I swivel round and stare at her. "Oh bugger!"

I rush for the door, easing her gently to one side with my elbow. Racing down the hall and into the girls' bedroom, I grope around in my pocket for a coin. I leap up on to the chair next to the bunk-bed and in a single deft move, filch the tooth from under the pillow and replace it with the coin. I turn to see Emily observing me. I unobtrusively jam the hand holding the tooth into my pocket and lift up the pillow with a flourish. "Look, darling! The tooth fairy remembered! Here it is!"

It's lucky I have such presence of mind or she might have suspected something...

Bad fairy

It is morning. Emily reaches under her pillow and takes out a tooth. She does not look surprised. "Well, the tooth fairy didn't come, Dad. I guess she was just sitting around drinking beer last night and forgot all about me..."

Αh.

Where did you get that hat?

I am picking Phoebe up from school and it is a hot day, even by Athens standards. As we will have to be out in the sun for close to an hour before collecting Emily, I have hats with me. I hand her one.

"Daddy, I don't like that hat. It looks girlish."

"What? No, it isn't girlish at all. It's just a white hat. Here, put it on."

"It's not just white. Look, there's some pink as well." She points to the gingham trim around the peak.

"Oh, that's not really pink darling, that's red and white."

"Mmmm. And what does it say on the front?" she asks, pointing to a glittery red word in swirly cursive letters.

"Um, 'Lovely', I say."

"That's girlish. And what are those little red round things."

"Cherries."

"They're girlish. I'm not wearing it."

"Darling, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to put my foot down here. It's very, very hot today and because we're outside, you're going to have to wear a hat. Look, I'm wearing a hat. This is my hat and I'm wearing it. This is your hat, so please put it on. I promise you, it isn't girlish!"

"You wear it then, and I'll have yours."

"What? Don't be silly. My hat will look enormous on you and there's no way my head will fit into a hat designed for a [I check the label] girl, I mean, uh, a child aged six to eight."

"Try it."

"What?"

"Try it on."

"Oh, come on, darling, now you're just being silly."

"Try it."

Just to humour her, I agree to try it on, making it very plain that if it doesn't fit then she'll have no choice but to - DAMN! Damn my six-to-eight-year-old-girl-sized head! As Phoebe runs off wearing my Moscow 2008 Champions League Final hat I reflect that if only I had been quick-thinking enough to tell her that the word on the front said "Zombie" instead of "Lovely" she would probably have agreed to waer it without a murmur...

It's Emily's birthday!

But there are other peoples' parties to go to. I'll be taking Emily to one while Nevi takes Phoebe to another. Ordinarily, both girls would be going to Constantinos's, but Phoebe has been invited by the one girl in her class that she actually likes, so she thinks she ought to put in an appearance. (Generally she declines invitations to girls' parties. At the one she did go to - "because they will stop inviting me if I don't go sometimes" - she was put in a room with half a dozen little girls dressed as fluffy pink princesses and given dolls to play with. "It was a nightnmare, Daddy!")

Instructions

It is Saturday and I am being given my final instructions for Emily's big sleepover experience. These involve going to collect one of her friends, getting crisps and party food, going to the video store, and picking up a cake. "And Dad, one last thing. Sometimes you can be a bit, well, strict, so could you try to be nice to my friends and not, you know, frighten them." Strict? I really don't think I'm that strict. But OK, I promise to be on my absolute best behaviour.

"I shall be happy and jolly and not at all strict, my darling, I promise. I wouldn't ruin your special day."

A worried look crosses her face "But not too happy and jolly, Dad. I mean no jokes, OK? Please don't try to be funny."

Funny? Now funny I can do. I'm renowned for the funny!

I look at her expression.

"OK, OK, no jokes. I shall be friendly but not silly, serious but not strict. I shall be completely obedient."

"Dad, the last time you promised to be obedient, you barked like a dog. In front of my friends. Please just behave.

Oh, all right. This party is going to be no fun at all, though, just you see...