Omelette making

I bought a dozen eggs, gave the boys a pair of scissors and asked them to cut some sorrel leaves.  

Papa always said 'if you want something done ask your son, if you want it done well do it yourself'.  He clearly didn't have the same son as me.

The boys have been here a month now.  

In the mornings I wake up to Gabby's hand written notes on the kitchen table; 'Sorry Ma but the dishwasher was full and we didn't want to wake you up by emptying it, so we've left everything in the sink' or 'Sorry Ma , the dog was sick so we covered it up with kitchen paper'.

This is bearable because the act of putting pen to paper suggests a certain amount of self awareness.

My heart sinks though when Gabby starts a sentence with 'Ma, Isaac and I....' and I know that I'm going to have to undo some wrong doing.

'Isaac and I saved a dead hedgehog from the canal and put it into a flower pot and now it's stuck to the bottom and we can't get it out'.  The smell of rotting flesh dominated the alley for several days until they managed to un-stick the hedgehog and give it the water burial it had already had.

'Isaac and I have saved a bird but we need to give it worms.  Where can we get worms from?';  The bird died shortly after despite their efforts and received an earth burial accompanied by Amazing Grace played by the boys on their guitars.

Their plans for the summer had been ambitious back in the spring.  Initially they'd wanted to earn money by cutting fallen trees into fire wood. I admired their initiative but knew I couldn't leave them in the forest with a couple of chainsaws.

Their second plan was to go down the river on the old windsurfs and camp on the banks for a week.  Again, it seemed like a good idea until Gab asked if the river was circular and I gave up hope.

They've taken to sitting in the 2CV in the garage and practicing gear changes.  It keeps them out of trouble (and I've made sure to hide the keys).

They now know what sorrel looks like so the next omelette will be quicker in the making.