It was a lengthy business dropping the Microbe off at school this morning…
“Mummy, I saw a CONKER!”
“Did you? That’s nice.” (ushers into classroom)
“It was in the school garden!”
“Ok. Right, in you go. Take your coat off and don’t forget to hang it on your peg”
“But mummy…” (remains frozen on the spot) “I really want the conker”
“You can go back and get it later, after you’ve settled in”
“But Mummy! What if another child gets it?”
“Look, I just want the teacher to see that you’re here so I can kiss you goodbye”
“But mummy!!! The conker! It’s only over there!” (rigor mortis sets in)
“Oh for the love of God. You have TEN seconds to get the conker”
(retraces steps to garden)
“Oh… it’s been nibbled. I don’t want it now.”
“Sigh. Now GET INSIDE and give me a cuddle and have a lovely day”
“But mummy… I want to show you where I saw some mushrooms growing…”
Suffice to say – conker fever is still in full throttle. We’re still a bit early, but I took him on a little hunt yesterday afternoon. Unfortunately we’d been beaten to it by the other neighbourhood children as we found loads of empty shells and very few decent conkers. On our way out the microbe asked me what he should collect them in and I glanced about and told him to take a welly boot. (I can guarantee that, from now on, welly boots will be deemed the only acceptable conker receptacle – habit-forming little nutter that he is).
In Mildred news, we’ve just got back from a mum & baby singing group, where mums get together and learn lullabies from around the world and sing them to the babies. (It’s a tiny bit hippyish, but then so am I). Anyway – despite not having sung for decades and having a voice like Frank Butcher thanks to a lingering cold and cough, it’s amazing how lovely it sounds when everyone sings together in rounds and harmonies. So far we’ve learned songs from Italy, South Africa and the Isle of Man. The babies really love it – their faces light up whenever the singing starts. I knew Matilda would be into it from the first time I played one of the songs on my computer and she grinned like a radiant loon all the way through it.
The Microbe is still as besotted with her as ever and likes to sing the songs with me at home, which is v sweet. He’s also taken to calling her Tilda-baby recently, which I guess is a lot prettier than Mildred.
In less pretty news, I have just heard something akin to Krakatoa erupting in her pants, so I guess it’s time to go. Adieu!