It was a proud moment when we received Eddie’s school report. His thirst for learning, his mastery of science, his flair with language. My heart swelled. He broke his tablet a little while ago and has missed playing some hideous punchy game where the characters have superpowers like invisibility or unlimited access to dynamite, and have a series of mass brawls. There's probably more to it than that, but that's my non-gaming perception of it.
We presented him with said tablet and he was suitably chuffed. Until the next day when I had to take the thing away from him again. Because we received this:
Oh. It's a little crumpled because I think he must have screwed it up when he got it, in a measure of disgust - at letting himself down, I hope.
But we are all are very proud of the performance of the England football team at the Euros, in spite of the sadness at the end of the game on Sunday night. Poor Eddie was inconsolable at the final penalty, until he'd had a good half an hour of Lord of the Rings read to him. Gilby sobbed himself to sleep. They had hoped and dreamed so much. Hearth Mother (and Father) were a little more pragmatic. But Gertie had come across a statistic about how domestic violence rises during an England game and rises more when they lose, so she went to bed worrying about that.
Still, only 55 million pounds needed to complete the sticker book, so we're nearly there.
Currently reading: Spring Cannot Be Cancelled - David Hockney in Normandy by Martin Gayford
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