Eighteen today!
It is so hard not to become a mother bore. One of the greatest joys when Sam started nursery school (apart from the fact that my tiny world opened a fraction and I thought Goodness, I could compose a symphony, write a novel, take over a small country - with THREE FREE HOURS a day!) was the much awaited Parent-Teacher evening. At last, I thought, I can talk about my FAVOURITE subject - at length. And no doubt I did (the years between have mercifully obscured the memory) until the penny dropped - that there were another twenty four other children in the class, and the teacher was possibly less than fascinated by my recounting his extraordinary insights into life, his precocious skills, his every tiny habit and way. And now he’s eighteen, and the desire to go on for hours and hours is still there, but luckily for everyone around me I’ve learnt to do it quietly, in my head.