I have just survived the start of a new school term.
By the skin of my teeth.
I have covered hundreds of books in sticky plastic. Thousands even. Largely because I had to cover the same ones over and over again.
I’m still having sticky plastic nightmares.
Some people, some mothers, just whip out the sticky plastic and perfectly covered books just appear with a wave of a wand.
It doesn’t matter how many YouTube videos I watch, how hard I try to avoid the bubbles or how many of my tears stain the pages of the brand new books.
I fought the sticky plastic and the sticky plastic won.
The day before school started I received a WhatsApp from Firstborn: I need a senior tie. The DAY BEFORE SCHOOL!
I WhatsApped his father.
At this point I had bought stationery, shoes, textbooks and was done.
Father calls me in a panic at 4:30pm. 30 minutes before the shops close. “The queue is around the block! What is with these people. Who the hell waits until the last minute like this?”
I took the question as rhetorical.
I thought, until a few minutes ago, that all was now good in the educational sphere of my family.
That is until a spawn called to tell me that there is a Parents’ Evening tonight.
They haven’t even been at school a week and already I have to face the educational inquisition?
Surely, my spawn haven’t got into trouble yet?
What if the teachers judge my sticky plastic?
Will there be wine?