Over the festive period we had more family meals than normal (good for social development, bad for washing up and argument potential). These days, it is hard to steer Gaia and Hedda away from their current hot topic, geography. I am all for encouraging my daughters' interest in our planet, but there are only so many times I am happy to list capital cities in Asia or quibble over the GDP of, for example, Lithuania. All three children love to list the countries to which they have been. Then rows break out as to whether stopping at a public toilet constitutes actually visiting a country. I say yes, especially when you have to pay 50 cents per toilet visit to the depressed looking attendant sitting in the corner. But others beg to differ.
Anyhow, I was looking for a new and exciting subject and chanced upon the Mr Men (who are just emerging here in a new, weirdly translated guise - not sure if they are going to be as popular as they are in the UK). I am going to assume you know who they are. Sometime during my adolescence, a 'Little Miss' range was added, presumably with equal opportunities in mind. I decided it would be fun to consider which one we would all be. I didn't even have to think about CG. He would be, indubitably, Mr Doom. A grey, dome-like body, down-turned mouth and furrowed brow. The story would entail various parties or festivities being underway when a chill would fall on the room and, without turning round, everyone would sense his presence. In deep, lugubrious tones he would ask, do I hear laughter in here? All the kids agreed with me so I must be right. Even CG looked happy. For years, my pet name for him has been Voice of Doom. Despite being the kindest and loveliest man ever, he has the ability to bring you crashing down to earth from whatever cloud of jollity you happen to be floating on. Don't do that, you'll catch cold. If you touch that, you'll break it. Mmm, looks cheap. Probably won't last long. And the annoying thing? 99% of the time, he is RIGHT!
Moving on, we decided on Little Miss Squirrel for Gaia, as she is always squirrelling things away in her Bermuda Triangle of a bedroom. Things go in there and never come out, or if they do, they look as if they've been tossed and turned in a tempestuous sea. Hedda is Little Miss Irrelevant. Titus, Mr Tantrum. Nobody could decide whether I should be Little Miss Busy, Internet or Sporty. I like Multi-Task. I would have ten arms and in each hand would be a different object. Neon trainers would be on my feet, and a stick of celery hanging out of my mouth to compensate for the cigarette I would like to smoke, were I less health-conscious. I would have a perpetually confused expression on my face. Why am I saying would?
This conversation made a deep impression on me (obviously, or I wouldn't have remembered it). Since then though, we've been back onto lakes, mountains, flags and capital cities. And school and work have also intervened, so family lunches are fewer and further between and the house is, I have to admit, much more peaceful.
Anyhow, I was looking for a new and exciting subject and chanced upon the Mr Men (who are just emerging here in a new, weirdly translated guise - not sure if they are going to be as popular as they are in the UK). I am going to assume you know who they are. Sometime during my adolescence, a 'Little Miss' range was added, presumably with equal opportunities in mind. I decided it would be fun to consider which one we would all be. I didn't even have to think about CG. He would be, indubitably, Mr Doom. A grey, dome-like body, down-turned mouth and furrowed brow. The story would entail various parties or festivities being underway when a chill would fall on the room and, without turning round, everyone would sense his presence. In deep, lugubrious tones he would ask, do I hear laughter in here? All the kids agreed with me so I must be right. Even CG looked happy. For years, my pet name for him has been Voice of Doom. Despite being the kindest and loveliest man ever, he has the ability to bring you crashing down to earth from whatever cloud of jollity you happen to be floating on. Don't do that, you'll catch cold. If you touch that, you'll break it. Mmm, looks cheap. Probably won't last long. And the annoying thing? 99% of the time, he is RIGHT!
Moving on, we decided on Little Miss Squirrel for Gaia, as she is always squirrelling things away in her Bermuda Triangle of a bedroom. Things go in there and never come out, or if they do, they look as if they've been tossed and turned in a tempestuous sea. Hedda is Little Miss Irrelevant. Titus, Mr Tantrum. Nobody could decide whether I should be Little Miss Busy, Internet or Sporty. I like Multi-Task. I would have ten arms and in each hand would be a different object. Neon trainers would be on my feet, and a stick of celery hanging out of my mouth to compensate for the cigarette I would like to smoke, were I less health-conscious. I would have a perpetually confused expression on my face. Why am I saying would?
This conversation made a deep impression on me (obviously, or I wouldn't have remembered it). Since then though, we've been back onto lakes, mountains, flags and capital cities. And school and work have also intervened, so family lunches are fewer and further between and the house is, I have to admit, much more peaceful.
I agree, the translation is weird, but the Mr. Men books have been around here since the 80s. I definitely remember reading them growing up.
ReplyDelete(Back to lurking. Love reading your blog.)
Which one are you??
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