Yard Sale

And here we are in the afternoon, never a change in life. Eitan excited by Manchester United v. Wigan and we plan our day for the action only to be disappointed by Sky, which does not broadcast the game. After near tears, it is the wireless. Madeleine bails to be with Aggie and help with some chores - you know, a girl thing. They hit the Party Palace costume shop where Madeleine blows, er, spends the last of her money on some chattering teeth, a tiny plastic dog and an object that emits a "mooo" when turned up and down (correction from M: "I still have 2o p, but I lost it while we were bike riding."). So otherwise the afternoon spent preparing for tomorrow's yard-sale. The kids collect all their moving-day crap and plop it in the living room to be sold in front of the house tomorrow at .. 9AM. Sunday. I suggest perhaps not the best time? but my Shakespeares have all their life to go to MBA school and learn such things. I don't push. Madeleine applies motivational bonusing: "anybody who spends more than five pounds can have a free Manchester United magazine. No wait -- anybody who buys anything can have the magazine" which, dear reader, from her brother's rejected stash and dates to 2007. Still, it is impossible to question their conviction and I allow them to post hand-written announcements to trees on our block using boxing tap. They will come down before lunch. Items for sale include: "furniture, clothes, toys and movies." Some inside consulting: "And books. And buddies." Eitan: "A lamp. And Match-attacks." It's gonna be a show.

Me, at dinner: "Madeleine, what's your favorite food?"
Madeleine: "Home made pizza."
Me: "Then what?"
Madeleine: "That cold chicken from Waitrose."
(Eitan whispers to her) "Mom's chocolate chip cookie-ice cream sandwiches."