The one where Friday didn't happen
I fell out of bed a little after 7 this morning, stumbled down the stairs, jumped in the shower, transformed myself fromNeanderthalto homo sapiens sapiens, and wandered back to the bedroom in search of clothes. Smart clothes, for a lunch out with the managing director, after missing the work Christmas lunch while working on-site.
I met W on the landing, en-route from the children's rooms, looking like thunder.
“What's wrong?”
“They're sick”
What she really meant to say was Miss Twelve and Miss Nine were sick – Miss Seven was boucing around the room like a half-dressed Spiderman. After a quick rationalisation of who could potentially throw the day to stay home with the children, I found myself writing an email to work.
After clicking send, and wandering back through the house I spotted Miss Twelve in her school clothes.
“Is she going to school?”
“No. She got dressed because she heard us talking on the landing about one or other of us getting into trouble if we had to stay home.”
She's growing up. She was prepared to go to school sick because she realised the implications on us. I have often wondered as the years have passed when the children's world view would widen beyond themselves; when they would realise the whole cause and effect thing. For our eldest it happened this morning.
I didn't make her go to school.