Day one in the school playground. Mr A pointed out the coat he’d picked up for Miss L was filthy, Daddy fail. I forgot her water bottle, Mummy fail.
But day two in reception class went really well. My Dad’s been visiting. We drank too many glasses of wine the night before, in celebration of Miss L’s first day, so instead of neatly lined up shoes, there was a bit of a scramble. Mum/Dad/Grandad fail. But, we still managed to be early.
Of course there’s a big hole, where mum used to be. Mum would have been absolutely bursting with pride and excitement. Change stirs up so many emotions.
My mum was brilliant at managing change for me and my brother. It was a huge thread in the Eulogy we wrote about her: the cartoons she drew, the relaxation exercise, the cheery notes in our lunch-boxes, the little surprises she brought us in old Kinder egg containers at the end of the day.
Funny then, how when I try to think back I am more likely to remember the Mummy primary school fails. Like…
- The time mum was late to pick me up from pre-school so the staff presumed I was meant to be going home on the school bus, until I spotted mum running in the opposite direction to the bus and let out a wail that drowned out the rest of the bus like a tidal wave.
- The time mum left me in the car because I was too ill to go to school, but she needed to take my brother in. Deciding she was never coming back, I screamed that vehicle down too. (Fortunately no one noticed or indeed reported this hugely disturbed child to social services).
- The time mum forgot to remind me to take my PE kit, so I cried and feigned stomach ache to avoid being told off.
- The times we were late, because mum insisted on making my brother porridge, he always wasted precious minutes drizzling it with syrup and waiting for it to be just the right temperature.
- The times the caretaker, Mr Pennyroyal, called us the travelling circus, because of the stripy red and yellow door Mum obtained to repair our otherwise brown Renault 5. Oh and because we were often the last ones legging it to the door, bags, coats and packed lunches flying behind us, like something out of a Quentin Blake illustration.
- The time she sent me to school in black knickers, on the day I was performing in a white costume, as a snowflake in the Nutcracker. Classy.
Feel free to share a little legacy too, by linking up a post or simply leaving a comment. Perhaps this will even inspire a few people to share some fails…
More on Little Legacy