I regretted saying “As long as you’re honest and own up who stole it, nothing more will be said about it”. Cos when Smudgelet, after some very convincing amateur dramatics which had me almost at the point of believing that it must have been the “voice-recording-keyring-fairy” who took it as both boys were so utterly adamant that they were innocent, finally said “I don’t like being accused so I am going to admit it – it was me” I couldn’t do anything despite the fact that he was totally unrepentant.
Am I evil for having a sly chuckle when I discovered I didn’t need to say or do anything?
He came storming up to me this morning from the breakfast table. “Tiddles keeps going on and on about me stealing that keyring and he won’t let it drop and it’s really getting on my nerves” he ranted indignantly.
“Oh dear,” I replied. “Maybe it’s got something to do with the fact that he’s working really hard to regain my trust and was a bit put out that you convinced me that it was HIM who had stolen it. And possibly it might be to do with the fact that I suggested you might apologise to him for blaming him when you both knew all along it was you, but you refused to do so. How about you go back in there and realise that it’s the natural consequence of what you chose to do and say… and that a sincere apology would have gone a long way at the appropriate time.”
Mwahahahahahahaha… and I didn’t have to do a thing 😀
All those labels, neatly sewn on. And no, iron on labels are not permitted as they have an annoying tendency to be iron-on, wash-off. So each individual sock, each handkerchief (yes, real hankies!), each pair of pants, each towel and flannel, all had to have their individual “Property of Tiddles” stitched into specified position for ease of identification. And I did it.
Thanks to my sister for managing to sew on four labels for me before she got bored. And thanks to her daughter-in-law for the compliment of declining to participate in the label sewing evenings because she’d never be able to match the neatness of my sewing. At least, I think she was complimenting me. After all, she surely wouldn’t have just said it in order to get out of being asked to sew, would she?
The bag is packed, the car is loaded, and one very nervous young man is tucked up in bed and getting ready for a big day tomorrow. Needless to say, he suddenly doesn’t want to go! (Needless to say, I suddenly don’t want him to go either, but go he shall). It all seems really quite surreal. I’ve never been the sort of mum who would ever have imagined that I ever would contemplate sending him to boarding school, let alone see it as a real opportunity for him. But letting go is so hard. How will I cope, with days passing and me not knowing what he’s doing, how he’s getting on, what he’s learning, what his friend said, what he had for dinner, after eight years of being interested in everything he did and talking with him about his day? I’ll miss him (though I won’t miss the stress at all). A bit of a turn around from a couple of months ago when I was putting him on a plane to Scotland and really not looking forward to him coming home again!
So tomorrow morning, at 6.50am, we set forth from Smudgie Towers to catch the ferry. We drive abroad to meet my sister who’s coming with us (to keep Smudgelet happy while I focus on Tiddles, and to find out where the school is just in case she needs to go there to pick Tiddles up any time), and then on to deliver him to the school. Good grief – how will I kiss him goodbye with a smile and a wave and calmly drive away?