strings

dahling

It was a triumph. The Brownies were top and I am very, very proud of them indeed. Indeed. What a wonderful group of kids, and how heartening to know they are will-be grownups. Even Dame 4, who was scared to terrified tears and quite unable to go on, was smothered in cuddles, they covered the muddles (hey, a poem) with trouping professionalism, much backstage stage-whispering and an inside-out six-legged cow suit that showed to all just how the two udders were stapled to the Ikea bedspread.

Much money was raised for hospice and children’s prosthetic limb charity thingy. Many balloons were stomped, and Zig was so knackered his head stabbed as we left the school hall and he was asleep by the time his chair reached our doorstep.

Brownies aside, our Molster is getting her first dose of unpleasant girl dynamics, by which I mean unpleasant dynamics with a girl, not dynamics with an unpleasant girl. A new girl started in her class in September. She seemed rather reserved, so Mol (as was almost every girl in her class, you can bet) was given the Make Friends With The New Girl talk over potato waffles and beans. She looked up at me with a Well, duh expression – friendly is our Mol.

A couple of weeks ago she told me that new girl and an old, good friend of Mol’s are Best Friends [capitals essential]. Mol grinned, happy that her old, good friend now had a special friend the way Mol has had for a couple of years in her Best Friend.

Keep up.

Yesterday, Molster was in tears at the end of the day. It seems New Girl wants ALL of old, good friend, pulls her away from Molster, and has even instructed her not to talk to Molster at Brownies (where New Girl has no influence as she doesn’t go). Old, good friend has a strong, forthright head on her shoulders, and doesn’t want this, but still New Girl plugs away, shooting Molster the nastiest of slidey looks

– hint for all insecure, would-be 8-year-old old, good friend-snatchers: best to leave the nasty slidey looks until Mum’s not around. Kay?

Poor Molster; until now she’s had a big group of friends who play together, talk together and get along. They are in parts Friends, Good Friends, Special Friends and Best Friends, but they are always, always, Friends. An open invitation to New Girl was offered - in girl-tongue (some language I never quite grasped, even when 8) to dive right in. It’s still open and offered, and I just hope she sees that to have a Friend at this school doesn’t mean they have to be taken away from other friends.

We talked a lot about it last night. I bit my tongue, and smothered my rild, kick-her-arse side under a big pile of dirty school uniform in the bathroom hamper.

We’ve decided, Mol and I, to try and ignore New Girl’s attempts at old, good friend snatching, and go along as normal. We think that should New Girl tell Molster again that she doesn’t like her, a good response might be Well, I like you.

Leave the channels open, and see how it goes.

In the meantime, here’s a random found toy shot.





Don’t tell him, but he needs all the rest he can get before Doc Oc arrives later this month.

Talking of the big day, thanks to Bev for reminding her notify list that today is indeed December. Do you know that sense of completion and calm you get that warns you you’ve forgotten something? I was relaxing into that this morning, a la spidey into lilac slippers, as I sipped a cuppa and caught up on email before getting the kids up.

Leapt up (lots of ‘up’ action here, isn’t there; well, you’ve got to to get down, apparently) with an underbreath word most filters would purse their lips at, ran upstairs as quiet as pos, turned out the bedroom cupboard until I found the old Frosty advent calendar somewhere at the bottom back [note to self: cupboard contents still scattered across bed] grabbed a couple of chocolate coins hidden behind the clean sheets in the same cupboard, back downstairs – luckily the old Frosty calendar hook is still twisted into the unit – hung up Frosty, straightened Frosty, stuffed the coins in number 1, re-straightened Frosty, then back up the stairs two at a time, into the kids room with a hearty It’s the first of December – guess who’s been!.

Four eyes open, two FROSTY!s.

Seems last year I was wrong. You’ve still got to hide those strings.