Water, water...

There's an awful lot of water about at the moment - but luckily for us we are quite high up, and far enough away to be able to breathe a sigh of relief. Not a nice time of year to be flooded out though - day-time temperatures are still below freezing. The snow melted very efficiently within a couple of days, without the customary (for us Brits) slush and fog. Rather it just melted into water (obviously) and then ran off. Unfortunately for the Red River area, they are cursed with a north flowing river which took this run-off and attempted to move it northwards - the way of which, of course, is blocked by yet more ice and snow, it being within coyote-tossing distance of the North Pole an' all.

T and bridgjo will today be going to see some maple-tapping at the Arboretum. Whilst I, naturally, will be recovering from yet another virus. This one had me in Urgent Care once more, where it was suggested with my next visit I could qualify for a set of crystal glasses. I experienced 2 litres of saline and an unexpected spasmed vein (not recommended). I am quite cheerful again, so don't send flowers just yet. Bridgjo is convinced that I actually can contract diseases orally. No, not by snogging, but rather by talking about it. I have only to hear that someone got up that day feeling slightly squiffy, and, lo, within the hour I am running a temperature and asking to whom I should leave the spoons.

T's French is coming on in leaps and bounds. She told me today "I did some bon travail today, Mummy". She does extra French twice a week before school, and loves to take things in to show her teacher. Picture the look on a French woman's face when I told her this week that T had brought in her pet asticot to show her.

We'd gone for a bike ride last week and found these intriguing seed-pods. When we got them home, and opened them, we found that were actually home to a sort of larvae. T naturally wanted to keep one as a pet. It lasted about an hour before it very obviously died (by turning a rather disturbing darker shade) - I wanted to replace it with a piece of basmati, but realised that T might rumble me. Anyhow - it was this she took in to show her teacher this week.

She had a pyjama (pajama?) day on Friday - the last day of school for a week. More of a pyjama and thermals day actually, but the kids think it's hilarious.

She has also completed a little pottery course at school. It's a little different from the one I did at Gladstone pottery when I was about 10. There, as it took place n one of the five Towns, one of the main lessons emphasised the importance of "How to look under the saucer to see where it was made". They have brought in a local teacher from the Art Centre, who's actually from Senegal so speaks French, and by all accounts it's everyone's favourite lesson. Here's the article I wrote for the weekly news-letter:

Hands up all those parents who have ever said "That's lovely darling. What is it?" Yes, you. You at the back - I can see you! You see, what we, as Parents, have all been missing all this time is any artistic ability whatsoever.

Luckily, that ability can be found in Adama, who has managed to nurture and drag the tiny amount of natural talent any of our kids have and has turned it into an amazingly accomplished show.

Yes! There's a crocodile. Yes! Yes! And a bird!

I wasn't the only one exclaiming; everyone one I walked passed in the gallery was amazed at the flair and, quite frankly, genius that the children are showing here. These are pieces we are all going to treasure for many years to come. And our children themselves will treasure the memories that these weeks have given them.

They have set-up a gallery for them in one of the class-rooms. In a moment of dreadful puns, a troubling side-effect of my illness, I suggested they call it the Pompidou-dou Centre (dou-dou means cuddly toy in baby French). How we laughed.