What a turmoil of emotions surround the inhabitants of Smudgie Towers this week.
Tiddles came home on Tuesday. I was concerned to find myself sinking deeper and deeper into a sense of foreboding as the time came nearer to meet him off the plane, not least because I am having to think of how to deal with the fact that he’s having a few too many treats while he’s away (tricky one to handle, that one), and the darker my mood became, the more it contrasted with Smudgelet’s merry excitement at the thought of seeing his brother again. But I think I made the right decision. I made an effort not to dampen Smudgelet’s joy, but also decided not to force myself to feel something I didn’t feel, but rather to wait and play everything by ear instead of beating myself up with guilt. And it worked. Now, two days later, I’m feeling glad to have my boy home again and enjoying his company once more. Long may it last.
Needless to say, Smudgelet is unbearable today as this is, officially, his last ever chance to be nine years old. He has identified the past year as the year in which he learned to enjoy being his own person with his own interests and being able to start doing things that his older brother now can’t do because he’s too old or not interested. I was pleased to hear that – a very mature summing up of nine-ness, I thought. I was also rather pleased with his choice of the highlight of the year – the weekend when I surprised them both by picking them up from school on Friday night and, instead of going home, whisking them off to a caravan site for the weekend. Mind you, he’s right – it was a magical three days!
Tomorrow is a day of tiny treats. The main excitement is that I’m picking him up from school at midday and taking him out to lunch. :o) It’s a bit of a rush, really, cos their lunch hour is quite short and it’ll take me time to get there – we just have time to race into town, grab a sandwich, and race back again – but it used to mean a lot to Tiddles to do it and Smudgelet is indescribably excited by the prospect now that’s he’s in Middle school.
Then after school it’s a quick birthday tea and the grand (but hurried) opening of the presents before he zips off to Cubs, courtesy of honorary auntie M, and Tiddles and I slip off to the ferry for a late night (well, late for us) trip to deepest darkest England, an overnight sleep at my sister’s, and then on for his interview at WonderSchool. Then Saturday afternoon we race back across country in the determined hope of catching a ferry to get us back in time for Smudgelet’s choir concert – especially important as my son, yes my son, is singing a solo. He is, apparently, singing his solo concurrently with three other people who are also singing the same song as a solo too… but I’m still just as proud. But our first priority is getting Tiddles through this interview.
He is really banking on getting in and will be devastated if it doesn’t come to fruition. Never mind him. I am really banking on him getting in and will be devastated if it doesn’t come to fruition. Everything is on hold. I pray that he’ll be calm and collected enough to show them that’s he’s capable of making a real positive contribution to the school and that they’ll see his potential and decide to give him that chance. I am confident that God has his hand in this. Certainly it was good to see Tiddles getting his suit ready (he was given free choice of what he thought most suitable to wear) and practising talking clearly and confidently, and he’s asked me to give him a mock interview tomorrow.
I wonder if his butterflies are wearing hiking boots like mine are. Please remember us all in your prayers tomorrow and Saturday (and into the anticlimax of Sunday).