So Molster had a solo walk to school. One of the hefty responsibilities of life as a class counsellor is to go in a bit early on Fridays, to help chop all the gubbins for Fruity Friday – they like their Fridays fruity in Lancashire. It’s a simple walk, a few hundred yards up a single straight road.
As the sun was lower as it would be if she left at the normal time, I lifted a reflective armband down from the hall keyhook, and worked it up around her right coat sleeve. Changing my mind, I dragged it off, and hooked it back up on her left arm. She walks on a right-hand path up to the school, so the armband would be on the side of the oncoming traffic.
Mol reckoned the armband might be of more use on her right arm, all the better for unexpected oncoming cars to see her as she crossed the couple of quiet residential roads between home and school.
I pulled it down off the left and hooked it back up onto the right.
And off she went, with a kiss and no gloves and a hope for a good day, the sky pink and one-eyed around her.
She’s growing up. I’m paying out the cord between us: bright, white nylon, guy rope tough. Should I forget, or resist, wrapping it round my wrist and a rock while I reread a clause in my mother contract, she tugs and discovers it gives.
I’m useless against this. This give. When my nine year old suggests her reflective armband would be better on the side of the sudden, unexpected traffic, I mutely move it across.
Things To Do
Cake:
Pressies:
Pressies from kids:
Cards: buy / make; give out / post.
Decorations:
Christmas dinner: yeah, right.
Booze:
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