I swear Freddie is the easiest member of my family to deal with. He is often by far the most attentive and sensible of the lot.
Back in October Grandad announced his plan to order a (rather extravagant, I thought) gift for Freddie’s headmistress, since Freddie would soon be leaving the school. I pointed out that the school year runs from September to July, that he has another three years in the school after this one (that had only just started), and in any case has less to do with the head than many other members of staff. But my words fell on deaf ears, because Grandad turned up a couple of weeks ago bearing said gift, with instructions to present it to her as soon as you like. It has been sitting in my kitchen ever since while I get around to composing the required explanatory note, and to buying the gifts I now feel obliged to provide for his actual class teachers.
I don’t usually buy gifts for the teachers at Christmas, I just send cards, otherwise it all gets a bit expensive.
Anyway, I found some rather nice looking, but inexpensive chocolate teddy bears in the local shop that I thought would be acceptable. But upon digging out Freddie’s class list so that he could write cards out before helping me wrap the teacher presents, I discovered that there are actually four members of staff in the class, not three as I thought, leaving me one teddy bear short of a festive picnic. That’s four members of staff to nine children – I’ll just leave that piece of information there for anyone who thinks I’m selling my son short by choosing SEN school.
Feeling crummy and in need of an early night, I asked Daddy if he would please go and get another one of these from the shop.
Off he went without a mumble or a moan, bless him, he is good to me; and I got on with feeling relieved that I’d be able to get them wrapped and sent in tomorrow, because Sod’s Law dictates that if I don’t Freddie will come down with whatever lurgy I’m developing and be off school for the rest of the week. Only a few minutes later, Daddy was back.
‘They didn’t have any rabbits,’ he shouted up the stairs.
‘So I got a Santa.’
‘But I’ve crushed it’s head.’
How? It’s in a ******* box?This is why Freddie is the only one allowed to help me pair up the clean socks.