I Need A Bigger Bedtime

"I need a bigger bedtime," said Eddie, as I went in to wake him up for a second time for school this morning when he failed to appear at breakfast after the first call.

Yes, I thought, perceptive of you. But, on the other hand, at whatever point in the evening I decide to brace myself and mention the 'b' word, you embark on a sort of squawking performance which I have come to interpret as indicating a level of resistance to the proposal. You are also master of delaying tactics, able to draw out the whole process for a good hour or so. It is, in fact, a tad stressful, if am to be entirely honest.

Though a bigger bedtime would make all of us happier, I thought, longingly. My wine glass could be filled earlier, for one thing. Not to mention the fact that I myself could also do with a bigger bedtime, frankly.

Still, it's hard to believe that something as small and innocent-looking as this can be so noisy and ferocious before sleep, or so grumpy when it wakes up.

Radioactive Report

For the first time I am in proud possession of three school reports - now that Eddie is a term and a half into his school career. Moreover I am the proud owner of three glowing school reports.

Two are glowing with praise. 

One, alas is glowing with radioactive criticism. Guess which!

I marvel at the teacher's linguistic dexterity. Eddie is 'confident to disagree'. Read: Argumentative little so and so. And he 'prefers to select his own classroom activity', which I understand to mean, won't do what he is bloody well told.

Still, I shouldn't be surprised. The writing was on the wall a couple of weeks ago, or rather it was on the page. As an English teacher I am delighted that Eddie in his short time in reception has progressed to writing in full sentences. I am less pleased that this is what one of the first said:

No doubt a great academic career ahead of him.

Currently reading: The Trouble With Goats and Sheep by Joanna Cannon