I make the girls a fresh juice each morning. The contents varies with the season and I know juice is just liquid sugar but it started to appease my guilt at feeding them the same home made muesli mix every week day of their lives and we've grown to like it so the habit has stuck. Today's mix was peach (the ones the neighbour left before heading for the hills yesterday) watermelon (the village next door is one of the three main watermelon producing areas in Japan so at the moment reject watermelon are making the way down the foodchain via neighbours and relatives and workmates to us lowly folk in next door village), apple juice (last year's brew) and banana (I actually bought those. From a store. With money.) It was delicious. And much lower calorie than usual after the jug had been upended on first Meg's lap and then Amy's chest to ankle (not one to do things by halves our Amy) both were freak accidents but still, a complete redress and bucket soaking of most favouritist clothes to ward off peach stains was not really on the plans for this morning... And then convincing Amy that she really could wear one of her other nine pairs of pink and purple heart adorned socks without completely ruining her day...
I was feeling rather apprehensive after that start to the day but work went well and without incident. Well my adult class managed to stray from a discussion of either/ neither to menopausal hot flushes, picking people up, hookers and mastitis but that's about par for the course there.
Finished teaching, picked Meg up at afterschool care, convinced her to leave afterschool care- I know I should be happy she likes it there but some evenings it would really be nice if she would just pick up her bag, wave goodbye to her friends and follow me out the door. Instead I go right into the room where she's playing, do my best sheepdog impression nipping at her heals and herding her toward the door, circle around and try again from the other side when she dodges me and by the time we finally have her and all her gear out the door, and kicked the followers back inside, I'm ready to say forget it and drive home alone!
Anyway, today was made just that little bit more fun by needing to duck across to the school to pick up Meg's morning glory plant. They planted seeds way back when and have been tending them carefully ever since. And when I say tending I mean love and attention and letters addressed to it and now charting the flowers each day etc etc. This summer we have to continue with the flower counting and generally keep it alive until school goes back.
Anyway, duck over to grab the plant and back in the car in 2 minutes flat, right?
First we got caught by her teacher. I'm all for open and honest parent-teacher communication but Meg's teacher is all performance all the time and never ever stops talking. I swear we could power half the village if we hooked him up to the grid.
While I was talking with the teacher M & A ran off to play on one of the flying foxes (because every primary school needs an unmanned and unsupervised flying fox or two, right?) and they must have been making enough noise for their voices to travel across the road to the after school care centre as next thing you know Meg's partner in crime came careening across the road calling out to Meg. Now I'm sure little sound of fragrance's mother thinks Meg is a hellraiser who corrupts her little darling but from my rose coloured view of things it's her little hoodlum trying to pervert our little angel. Whichever it is there's no denying that it's a case of 1+1= 3 when they get together. It is unbelievable to me that they weren't red flagged by their kinder teacher and somehow ended up in the same class at school. Funnily enough there has been no effort on either mother's part to enable together time when we're not paying someone else to look after them....
Anyway, sound of fragrance and Meg were asked to get ready to leave, told we were leaving, instructed to follow and informed they would be left behind if they didn't get their butts into gear. Well, that last threat really mobilised them and they decided to run home. Alone. Without accompanying mums or sisters. Not on your life, honey.
By the time we'd chased down our wayward daughters, roundly told them off quite publicly (that's what happens when you are chased down outside the post office honey) and I had packed a defiant and devastated Meg in the car with the promise that she will not be having little sound of fragrance over to play before she's old enough to drive down and pick her up herself it was a less than enjoyable ride home.
Along with important facts such as the sun must be coloured red and there is one and only one way to write numbers Meg has been very busy in her three short months at school picking up some new vocabulary. Yup. She can now swear like a trooper. She does it with such attitude and rolls her r's so convincingly I'd be quite proud if it wasn't levelled at me. Well actually I don't want her talking like that to anyone. So, if it was someone else's daughter, swearing at someone else who really deserved it- and that kid wasn't a mere six years old I guess I'd be quite impressed. But unfortunately those weren't the circumstances and I therefore wasn't impressed and Meg spent a good chunk of her free time after school today sitting in time-out.
Still, we made it through dinner bath and bed without further incident, all is peaceful and everyone's asleep and really, looking back, it seems a lot less calamatous than I feared I was in for this morning.
Which makes me think I should get off to bed quickly and go to sleep before I have time for anything else to go wrong!