Bob

Madeleine gets a "bob". She shakes her hair into place noting "That's called a flick, Dad" and I could not possibly disagree.

Eitan and I place 47 and 46th, respectively, of 884 runners in yesterday's 5K race (Dad pips the boy but with no intention of doing so).  Eitan is 5th for Junior Men 14 and Under, and I am 7th for the 45-49 category. Our times are 19:17 and 19:16 - I'm just happy to be running injury free. The difference between me now and then, I observe over the last 500 painful meters whilst passed this way and that, is that I don't have the motivation to throw it into another gear requiring further pain.  I just can't be bothered.

In football action this morning Eitan's Elm Grove cranks a 6-1 home-field victory over the out-classed Woking Cougars.  The game notable for the glorious sunshine. I am accompanied by the dog and, unusually, Madeleine who does some homework in the car during the first half.  I give in to her request for "Millions" -" tiny little balls of candy" (her description).

Madeleine does her sciences homework: "Does a poisonous dart frog lay eggs?"
Me: "Do you really expect me to know that?"
Madeleine: "You can always guess."

Madeleine: "I am going to make a hat for Gracie and Moe."
Me: "That's nice. Just make sure I can mail it."
Madeleine: "OK."
Me: "And include directions."
Madeleine: "Directions?"
Me: "Yes, so when they open it they know what to do."
Madeleine: "Gracie and Moe: Put hat on head."
Me:
Madeleine: "What's so funny now, Dad?"