At school, the families from Japan have organised a stall selling handmade Japanese craft. Thanks to our eldest child, we have a house that is overflowing with paper cranes and frogs and lilies and balloons, but their sign says, ‘Even one dirham will help us.’
On the way to the final birthday party of the weekend, youngest said, ‘I’ve just realised, I’m the only one in my football team who comes from a country that has English as the main language’. On the way home, he said, ‘Amir didn’t come. He’s from Libya. They don’t feel like celebrating.’
I tried a new hairdresser. Eldest’s teacher’s hairdresser. Eldest’s teacher always looks beautiful so I asked her where she goes. The hairdresser asked the normal questions. ‘Where are you from? How long have you been here? You like it here?’ And when I shrugged and smiled in answer to the last, he smiled an almost-laugh in return and said, ‘You are like everyone.’
I wanted to say, ‘Every day I live here I believe that less than I did the day before.’
At home, the mister said, ‘You look beautiful,’ but eldest said, ‘Oh no, you look just like Miss. I won’t know whether I’m at home or school.’
I have such trouble with hair. My last haircut ended in disaster. I suppose I was a bit impulsive that day as, after I came home and decided the cut was as boring as could be imagined, I shaved my head. My hair is growing at a rate of approximately 5mm per year, my head was last shaved 2 months ago and I still look like I’ve been receiving cancer treatment. The 15yo refuses to be seen with me. I think he’d rather I looked like any woman he knew than the strange mum with no hair!
Ah, children! Such levellers.
Listen to Mister. After all, how often do our blokes notice when we’ve had a haircut?
I’m still looking for a hairdresser like the one from your first book.
If you look like eldest’s teacher then surely that means that you look beautiful too, just like the Mister said.
Ahh, just like Jasper telling me my face looked weird when I went out a few weeks ago wearing make-up. Noice.