Empty without argument

Dig's off to the airport today, bound for Poland. There's no albatross available to take him, so we drive him there.

Unusually, when it's time to depart, everyone's in a calm temper so there's no need to make pointless threats about dropping off irritating people at the roundabout where they'll have to sit and wait until we pick them up later. I stick on an audio tape of Tintin which keeps everyone quiet. Then, since the journey goes without hindrance, I say when we've dropped daddy off we'll stop in the playground close by and look overhead to watch the planes fly by, wondering what's wrong with videoconferencing again before we drive back home without him.

When we get home we're bound for the front room where we'll have a long discussion about whether to watch the Lion King for the 134th time or whether it's Land Before Time. I think secretly everyone thinks they should have grown out of that. But it keeps getting put on and watched like we might hold a cuddly blankie or eat comfort food custard.

So all in all it's a relatively peaceful and quiet day in the Grit household. Perhaps we're all a bit subdued with Dig going away. And, as if by sympathy, the downstairs toilet flush stops working and the potato scooper goes missing.

What if ... part two

They're not letting go of this albatross thing. Which just goes to show how effective the kiddie RSPB has been on one evening every month. Perhaps I should hand over teaching the time to them, and let's see how they do it.

Anyway, the albatross makes its appearance at lunch again.

'What if we get an albatross, what you going to feed it on?' asks Squirrel. Evidently, she's been puzzling about the logistics.
'Squid' says Shark decidedly, with her mouth full of apple cake.
'Where am I going to get squid from?' I ask. 'We live miles from the sea. Are you expecting me to get up every morning and drive to the coast to pick up squid to feed to the albatross?'
'No!' shouts Tiger gleefully. 'You can put squid in the freezer!'
'What if the albatross refuses to carry computers, daddy, or any baggage?' I ask. Judging by the worried look on Shark's face I can spy they haven't thought of that. So I become deeply concerned. 'Did anyone think to ask the albatross? What if we get it here and then it says it's not helping?' Now I'm starting the What if's.
'We could send it back home' says Shark.
'But we've removed it from its natural habitat' I point out. I'm starting to believe we actually have an albatross now. 'If we take a creature from the wild it might not be so easy to give it back. Sometimes they get rejected by their group. Or-' I say with a troubled look, 'it might get dependent on us and forget how to catch food for itself.'
'You could turn it loose' offers Shark.
'What? Turn it loose?' I'm incredulous. 'I can't turn it loose! It wouldn't know where to go. What if it starts hanging about the garages, sitting in doorways, drinking and spraying graffiti like the local teenagers. What do you do then?'

The idea of having the responsibility for a delinquent albatross hanging round the back lane makes everyone laugh.

'I don't want to see albatrosses hanging about spraying graffiti' says Shark. 'Let's drive daddy to the airport.'

At last.

What if... part one

I don't know about anybody else, but this drives me mad. We call it the 'What if' game.

I am discussing with Shark, Squirrel and Tiger the best way to get Dig to the airport again next Sunday. We need to ensure that:

1. Dig does not have a heart attack on the M1;
2. Dig does not have a heart attack on the M25;
3. Dig does not have a heart attack on the M4, or indeed on any other blocked up / closed down / slow-moving motorway in the vicinity of any take-off and landing strip throughout the UK and preferably elsewhere;
4. in effect, can we think of a suitable schedule and transport that allows Dig to arrive in any circumstances where we can wave and say 'have a nice trip' and not 'call an ambulance'.

Shark suggests the train. I say this is normally a good idea. But this time there might be a problem with the train because daddy Dig might have to set off very early to sit on the bus thanks to the engineering works.

Tiger suggests a taxi. I say daddy Dig sometimes does use a taxi and this is a good idea too. But as it is a Sunday the roads might be easier, and we could be his taxi, then we get to visit our playground close by and be involved a bit more in daddy Dig's life instead of saying 'see you in a few days then' while standing at the doorstep.

Squirrel suggests a bike. I say that is a good idea and normally I would approve of that but this time he has his luggage and where would he put it?

Then the What if's start.

'What if he straps it to the bike?' says Squirrel.
'He carries a computer. Putting it on a bike might bump the computer and damage it. He would be unable to do his presentation with a broken computer'.
'What if he got something else to carry his computer and he goes by bike?' chirps Tiger.
'Such as?' says mummy Grit.
'An albatross' offers Shark.
'Where might we get an albatross from?' inquires mummy Grit with a big sigh while reaching for a bottle of beer. I know I must be a good home educator and allow full exploration of ideas in order to create a co-operative, sharing, non-judgmental environment and a family confident enough to share blah blah blah. I'm opening some beer.
'What if you go and get one?' says Shark.
'Would I have to go to the South Atlantic Ocean?' I ask, pouring myself a big glass.
'Yes' declares Squirrel, thumping the table in what looks like something's been decided at last.
'And what would I do when I got there?' I ask.
'You would go and get a big net and tie fish to it and then string it up in the air and then when the albatrosses came flying along they would get stuck in the net. Then you can bring one home' shouts Shark. Clearly she's worked this one out already.
'I wonder how long it would take' I muse, trying to get in a bit of practical problem-solving into albatross-land.
'Two hours' says Squirrel.
'Five months' adds Shark.
Tiger nods, like that sounds about right.
I pour another beer. We still haven't cracked the time-thing yet then. 'Well, say it takes me five months. Daddy's flight is next Sunday'.
For a moment everyone's silent. Then Shark asks, 'How are you getting to the airport?'

Albatross

It's the kiddie RSPB meeting. And at three o'clock this afternoon Shark informs me that for the evening meeting everyone must take along an albatross that can fly.

Never sure about these things I ask Shark if it has to be a real albatross, perhaps with a bandage round its beak. 'No' says Shark. 'We have to make it. And we can make it of anything we like. And mummys are not to help.'

Damn. When it comes to showing off with art and design, I have always considered this My Job.

But for the next hour, Grit is banned from the schoolroom, pacing up and down the kitchen, tetchily worrying that to make albatrosses that can fly, it ought to be at least life sized and be a proper smart design based on proper paper aircraft technology. And really, they deserve to have a Chief Designer who can boss everyone about and tell everyone what to do. That's My Job, obviously.

Well two hours pass before I get to look. And quite frankly what I see is a total mess.

Tiger's albatross is a film canister previously used as a rocket at the space centre. Tsk. She's strapped paper wings and a beak to it. Shark composes hers of straw and cotton wool. It looks nothing like an albatross. It looks like a lump of cotton wool with some straws skewered through it. Then Squirrel shows me hers. And I think, Is that it? Two hours design work for this?

It is a pencil that has triangles glued onto the side. This flies if you throw it across the room with force. She looks like someone throwing a pencil across the room, and I have to say 'Well done! If I didn't know any better I'd say an albatross just flew through the house!'

Then there's a demonstration of all the rag-bag of designs that apparently didn't make the grade. Bits of pipe cleaner attached to lumps of foam; a roughly hewn lump of fabric with a deflated balloon stapled to it; a pair of scissors that get confiscated pretty sharpish; a glittery ball of wool in an egg carton. None of them fly. They are all hurled with great force. Honestly, if I'd known about this project at the beginning of the week I'd have intervened properly and been Chief Designer and made a proper paper albatross and we would have studied aerodynamics and everything. That way I could have shown off properly tonight and smugly nodded 'home educated' to everyone who gawped in wonder at our amazing design made from special aerodynamic paper.

But it is not to be. Dig takes them to the kiddie RSPB while I hide in shame at home. He is not impressed either with the collection he's carrying and says why don't you strap some wings to a house brick and chuck that in the direction of Pied Wagtail? Let's see how fast he can move when he sees that special little albatross coming at him.

And it gets worse. As they're leaving Squirrel tells me it's a competition and everyone's going to see how far their design goes. And the winner might get a cuddly albatross. As they depart I can only shake my head. They are not only going to lose, they are going to lose with ignominy. If only they had let the Chief Designer take control.

And blow me down. When they come tumbling back in at 9 o'clock tonight everyone is flushed and chattering excitedly. Apparently Tiger's albatross flew furthest. Until the very last albatross thrower, who beat her by a centimetre.

And the Chief Designer tenders her resignation.