Our daughter (13): ‘Papa, would you take a photo of me with your mobile phone, so I can see how these trousers look on me?’
My husband: ‘Let me guess: the battery of the mirror is flat again..’
Train ride home (Brussels -> Antwerp).
Our son, Walter’s (10) birthday party takes place this afternoon in a playhouse. A lot of toys, pancake and other inevitable ingredients foreseen.
Walter (last night before going to bed, slightly worried):
‘Papa, what would happen if I became ill by tomorrow? All has been organised and been paid..’
My husband: ‘We would solve it Walter, do not worry.’
Walter: ‘Hurraaay!! You are the best papa!’
My husband: ‘..As I said we would solve it. We would look for another boy aged 10, named Walter, and go for the party..’
Hungarian grandma calling her grandson in Belgium:
‘What would you like for Christmas?’
He (10): ‘A Monopoly!’
Grandma: ‘But I remember you have already such a board game at home..’
He: ‘The Hungarian version is much better.’
Grandma (touched by this 2nd generation nationalism): ‘Better, right? You also prefer the things which are from your motherland..’
He: ‘Yes! In the Hungarian Monopoly we don’t pay tax..’
The definition of a ‘nice afternoon’ for me is definitely reading together with my son back to back – he his Dutch contemporary literature, and I, mine.
Ps: let me call attention on the fact that I dressed to the front colour of the book.
Men should have s-o-m-e style after all – for God’s sake..