What a ridiculous gimp I am, posting about eight posts in the space of twenty four hours...
BUT- this weekend I was being Good and House-Bound in preparation for next weekend, which will be my, Amy and Kayt's last weekend together due to various trips and holidays with our au pair families. Sad, very sad, but after Clare leaving last weekend we knew it was coming, we knew her departure marked the Beginning Of The End.
Last night we said goodbye to Laura, who left for Scotland today. We drank a few pitchers of beer at the Pop In, which was appropriate considering that in Laura's first week as an au pair, she got very drunk and lost her house keys (she was live-in), so she broke in through the window and pretended there'd been a burglary. If only these families knew who they were letting look after their kids...
Anyway, in exactly seven weeks today I will be on the Eurostar, back to England. And you know how I feel about seven, it is my Magic Number, so I knew something magical would happen today and it happened at lunch time...
Me and the five year old have got a lot of 'imagination games' on the go, which I am worried are getting a little bit out of control: every time I go and pick him up from school, I have to check that I have got my Invisible Cat with me and I panic if I think I've forgotten it; I also have an Invisible Bag in which I keep my Invisible Sword-Ball (a sword that turns into a ball) and my Invisible Phone-Ball (a phone in the shape of a ball).
Last week we had a bit of Argy Bargy because the apartment was filled with Invisible Robots and we were fighting them with our Invisible Sword-Balls and I thought I'd be clever and call for back-up on my Invisible Phone-Ball. I told the five year old back-up was coming, thinking he'd be pleased, but a look of fury crossed his little face.
"No! You put the robos gris, is mean!"
So then I had to call again and explain that I'd accidentally summoned the mean grey robots instead of the good gold robots and all the time, he was stood over me, yelling about these bloody robos gris and I got really stressed out and started flapping and I realised I was apologising to an invisible nobody, on my Invisible Phone-Ball, about a clerical error involving Invisible Robots, because my boss, a five year old boy who sometimes wears beige polo necks, flared jeans and a brown velvet blazer (at the park the other nannies call him '70's Boy'), was breathing down my neck.
After this episode I have tried to teach him the difference between reality and pretend, and when I say 'teach him' I mean 'convince myself'. It didn't work though, as today we had more trouble when we were crossing the road and he wouldn't hold my hand because he had his Invisible Bag in one hand and his Invisible Cat (on a lead) in the other hand. I had the same problem, but as I demonstrated to him, it just about possible to manage them both in one hand, but he was having none of it. Seems like there is no distinction between Reality and Make-Believe.
Get to the point, I hear you scream!
O.k, here it is...
So, we were eating lunch today, exactly seven weeks until I leave. Every time we eat lunch, we play a game where the five year old knocks on the table and I pretend that I think it is the door and I go and answer the door and there is an Invisible Monster there that I can't see (obviously, because he's invisible)...
Well, today we were eating lunch and as I was looking at the five year old boy, we heard a knock at the door and both his hands were on the table. He said:
"Is no me dat!"
But I knew it wasn't him.
"I wonder who that is at the door?" I said melodramatically.
I left the table and went to open the door.
There was nobody there.
There was definitely, definitely a knock at the door...
I went back to the table and the five year old asked me who was at the door.
"It was an Invisible Monster," I said, and he nodded and carried on eating his lunch, "I felt his fur and he was really tall."
Suddenly I pictured him, really tall and lean with pale, biscuit-coloured fur.
The five year old stood up on his chair and stretched his arms up in the air.
"He like this?"
"Yes!" I said.
The five year old nodded as if I had confirmed something for him.
"Dat my copain, he."
So. I am trying not to be a Mental but... I think the evidence speaks for itself. If you believe in magic... then pretty soon a seven foot furry monster will show up at your door.
SEVEN WEEKS TO GO!
Seven is my magic number...
Ooh and I had an interview with a lovely, lovely lady who runs drama classes for kids, in English, here and she said she wants me to work for her, but she might not have the money to hire me, but because I met her today I think the Number Seven will work its magic...
In case you don't think me and the number seven have a magical connection... guess what else! On the 7th day of the 7th month (my birthday), Lauren arrives in Paris at 7 minutes to 7. SERIOUS.
Marvel and Wonder at the number seven.
Marvel and Wonder...