While reminding the children to get their school bags ready last night after a week off for half-term, my other half turned to me.
“You did remember that the Primary School has an inset day tomorrow, didn’t you?”
The look on my face said it all. The look on her face said much more.
I didn’t panic too much – I’ve been working from the office recently anyway, and given the wonders of Skype and e-mail, it’s not actually that much of a disruption to work from home any more. Cycling into work to pick up my laptop, then do an about turn and re-trace my route was… a little more disruptive – to my legs at least.
So here I am, sitting in the junk room / study at home in front of the work laptop, work phone, and a cup of coffee. The washing machine and tumble dryer are thundering away in the background, and Miss 11 – my charge for the day – is watching back-to-back episodes of iCarly in the lounge.
We thought twice about leaving her today, and just popping back throughout the day to check on her, but having never left any of our kids at such a young age, decided against it. Particularly Miss 11, who is away with the faeries at the best of times.
I will admit to being a bit judgmental of parents that leave their children home alone before they are 12 or 13 years old. I know all kids mature at different rates, and sometimes there is no option, but then you see the opposite – the kids that are out until all hours while their parents are sitting at home watching TV, and you think twice.
There is a little boy that often knocks on our door on an evening – asking if our kids can go out to play. One night recently he arrived at 9pm. He was the only kid left in the play park – everybody else had gone home (or rather, their parents had called them in). I kind of feel sorry for him – that his family take so little care of him. He’s probably about seven or eight years old. When I tell him that our girls are getting ready for bed, he looks at the floor and mumbles “ok” in the saddest manner possible.
Time to eat the lunch I hastily made this morning, after scraping myself out of bed. I played the “stay up late to avoid the arrival of tomorrow” game last night, and made it to about 2am before falling asleep with the iPad propped against me in bed. I woke with a start at 7am when the alarm went off, right in the middle of a great dream. I can’t remember what the dream was about now, but I remember thinking it was good, and wishing I could go back to sleep. That never works though, does it…