The whole thing looks quite pretty, but I don't know if it's enough of a birthday present.
Margot and Mother have both written poems. Mr. Kugler came upstairs this afternoon with the news
that starting Monday, Mrs. Broks would like to spend two hours in the office every afternoon.
Just imagine! The office staff won't be able to come upstairs, the potatoes can't be delivered,
Bep won't get her dinner, we can't go to the bathroom, we won't be able to move and all sorts of other inconveniences!
We proposed a variety of ways to get rid of her. Mr. van Daan thought a good laxative in her coffee might do the trick.
“No,” Mr. Kleiman answered, “please don't, or we'll never get her off the can.”
A roar of laughter. “The can?” Mrs. van D. asked. “What does that mean?”
An explanation was given. “Is it all right to use that word?” she asked in perfect innocence.
“Just imagine,” Bep giggled, “there you are shopping at The Bijenkorf and you ask the way to the can.
They wouldn't even know what you were talking about!”
Dussel now sits on the “can,” to borrow the expression, every day at twelve-thirty on the dot.
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