This morning, I dropped the kids off at Before School Care, as I do every morning.
After I’d signed them in and hugged them and bid them adieu, the lovely woman who runs it pulled me aside.
“I’ve been trying to decide whether to show you this,” she said, and opened a folder full of ‘profiles’ from all the students.
My favourite time of day is ‘going home’, wrote Lily. I like it when mum lets me do what I want. I smiled because she is so sassy.
But then I read Georgia’s. I like playing on the iPad. I like reading. I like talking to my mum.
And under the heading “My friends”:
In big, angry capital letters. In red pen.
“I was really surprised,” the BSC lady told me.
“She’s always chatting to the other kids and playing with them,” she said.
I had had the same conversation in our parent-teacher interviews two weeks prior. Georgia finds it hard to make friends, please watch out for her. I don’t want her to be lonely.
“Of course! We do lots of things with the other classes, I bet she’ll make friends.”
If you think so.
“They always make friends.”
Well that’s a relief.
So now I’m sitting at work with seven hundred pounds of guilt on my head, trying not to quit and just work in the tuckshop forever.