A week without Miss 9
A little voice crept across the landing this morning, and called outuncertainly to wake usafter waiting for my eyes to focus on the radio alarm clock, I told her to go back to bed for a while. As I ducked back under the covers, another voice came from somewhere much closer.“What time is it?”“5:40We slept on until 7, when she returned to ask again, and waited for the local breakfast radio show to burst into life before tipping ourselves out of bed. A big day in the life of Miss 9 lay ahead, and I had promised to start it off with bacon. While I dived around the kitchen making breakfasts and lunches, the rest of the house hold slowly appeared, in search of games kits, books, and homework.
Miss 9 is going on her first residential trip with school. Five hours on the motorway to reach “Kingswood”an outdoor education and activity centre where she will be staying with the rest of her school year for the week. To say she has been excited would be something of an understatement. As anticipated though, while giving her a hug in the school hall this morning, the excitement turned into apprehensionobsessing over who was going to be on which bus, if she was in the right group, and so on.
Of all the children, you might imagine Miss 9 would be the most brave, and most self assured of our children. You would be wrong. While she is the loudest, and the most boisterous, she also seeks the most attention, and is the most unsure.
This morning was all about encouragement, reassurance, and distraction. The few moments before saying goodbye were filled with reminders to send postcards, to take photos, and wishing her well on the adventures she will have this weekstudiously avoiding the words “we'll miss you”, because we will