Carrying Miss 10 Home
I picked our younger two daughters up from their dance class yesterday evening while my other half went to the “new starter” evening at the local “big” school. I can't believe our middle girl is going there in September – I can still remember her hanging on to my leg on a morning at infant school, and being reluctantly plied away by her teacher.
Sidetracked already.
The night before last the kids were driving us nuts, so we threw them out in the garden after dinner, and told them to go jump on the trampoline for a bit – with the hope that they might burn off some of their excess energy, rather than fight from room to room around the house. It's worth noting that their arguments arebrutal -I still remember the time our youngest (six at the time) shouted at her bigger sister “YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO – YOU'RE NOT MUM, AND YOU'VE GOT NO TEETHsitting high in the air while I quietly do the thing I do best – put one foot in front of the other. The last few hundred yards werepainful.
As we approach the house a friend of the children's is waiting at the end of our drive – Miss 11looks up at me hopefully, and while lowering Miss 10 down to the ground, I agree that they can go play – but must be home by 8pm (the summer holidays haven't started over here yet – school in the morning!). Miss 10 slithers down from my shoulders, and begins to walk away across the grass outside our house in pursuit of her friends.
“Hang on a minute – I just carried you home because you couldn't walk?!”
She half smiles at me, not sure if to laugh or not.
“I JUST CARRIED YOU THREE QUARTERS OF A MILE FOR NOTHING?!”
She looks very guilty, and does that smile thing where she tries to get you to smile too. The other girls burst into hilarious laughter.
“Fine... I want you home by 8pm”