The bus pulled up bang on time, and as the little hoodlums filed off, we could see that the bags under their eyes were as big as the bags that contained their wet, stinking gear.
'Your children don't sleep,' croaked one of the teachers. She'd completely lost her voice, and the bags under her eyes were big, saggy and black. 'But we've had a great time,' she added. I think I believed her.
'How did the problem solving go?' I asked another teacher, who didn't look quite as wrecked as the first.
'They weren't that good at solving problems,' she said thoughtfully, 'but they were excellent at creating them.'
The 9 year old was very tired, but when I got him home, he sat on the settee with me and his little sister as his audience, and he told us everything that had happened from the moment the bus had pulled away on Wednesday, to the minute it pulled back into the layby outside the school 2 days later.
It had been brilliant. He'd survived the ghyll scrambling the canoeing and the archery, but the biggest achievement for me, was the fact that he'd managed to make his bed, set the table for dinner, make a packed lunch, use one squirt of soap, 4 squirts of toothpaste AND wear more than one pair of underpants. All without the assistance of his shouty, yelling and bawling mother....
....I wonder how his teacher had lost her voice?
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We've definitely got management material!
ReplyDeletelove,
Tishy (another Fellsider Mum)x