We’re in the living room after dinner, and I’m helping Son1 with his school project on our community, whilst keeping half an eye on Facebook at the same time.

I notice that someone’s posted something onto the Facebook page for Son 2’s class, about a school trip tomorrow.

“Huh?” I think. It’s the first I’ve heard of it.

“Did you know you’re going on a trip in the morning?” I ask Son2. He gives me a blank look.

So I read the message aloud.

“The class is visiting a mosque tomorrow, and they’re still looking for volunteers. Volunteers should cover legs and arms, and I assume women have to cover their hair as well. Please send in 5 AED with your child so they can buy a piece of fruit afterwards.”

The pat on the back I gave myself for knowing all about Son1’s sports day the next day – including what events they’re participating in and when (egg and spoon; dress up in UAE costume and run around a post and back, etc) – was clearly premature.

“Glad I saw that,” I say, to no-one in particular.

“So, I’ll put 5 AED in your bag,” I tell Son2.

“5 AED or a hundred?” he asks, his face a picture of devout innocence.

Ever feel like they’re just after our money? Gah!

The colour of DH’s money: we keep all his foreign notes in a piggy bank. He’s always trying to pass them off on me