I'm so glad I took a picture of my handsome, smart, clean little lad yesterday...BEFORE he went to school.
I couldn't wait for him to get home to tell me all about his day. At 4pm I stood waiting at the window for him. He sauntered up the drive, dragging his new bag behind him, trailing his sweatshirt along the ground with his neatly pressed Marks and Spencer's man-shirt hanging out of his grass-stained trousers.
'Good day?' I beamed.
He dumped his stuff in a heap on the floor and trudged in. Even his little sister came to greet him enthusiastically. She'd missed him at First School.
'Did it rain at your place?' she asked.
'His' place is about 100 yards down the road from 'her' place.
'Yeh,' he smiled, 'Poured.'
'So?' I said, 'What was it like?'
'Oh...really good,' he replied. 'I need a packed lunch though - the dinner's are awful. And its far too long a day. I'd like to learn the keyboard, and the sweatshirt covered my shirt in fluffy little balls so I took it off.'
'Well at least you've brought it home!' I smiled, remembering the 6 sweatshirts I retrieved one day from lost property at First School. I picked up the sweatshirt. It had a big blue ink stain down the front. It looked old and worn, the cuffs were frayed and threads hung off it. It was age 11-12....it wasn't his.
Somewhere, a kid was returning home with a tight, but sparkling new sweatshirt - hundreds of maroon bobbles clinging to his shirt....
No comments:
Post a Comment