My children are trying to kill me through the means of sleep deprivation. Enough said.
Yesterday was Toddler boy’s first day at Pre-school. I’m sure I felt more nervous than he did. It all started well, he ran into the place Roary the Racing Car rucksack flapping, as its a bit too big and effectively said; ‘that’s it mum, I’m off for an independent life’. I was pleased, a bit of peace, at least whilst I drove home anyhow.
Two hours later it was time to collect him, I queued patiently outside, with a slight air of unease. The buggy got stuck in the door and all I could hear was someone crying. Somehow I got a bit jostled out of the way whilst I was parking Fifi. Never mind, I queue jumped, to evil looks and still got nowhere. A new plan of attack took me around the side of the queue and directly behind the little fella, who was distraught and sitting on one of the teachers laps. Oh, dear. Not such an independent little fella then. Its difficult to know what to do in such circumstances. So I grabbed him, thanked the teachers and ran away. Not such a good start then.