Nothing marks the approach of the glorious school-run-free summer holidays than the school sports day. It’s something that has enormous significance for the children, largely due to the practices that start weeks ahead of the event which heightens the anticipation and gives them a taste for the greatness and glory that might just be theirs.
I must have walked past that answer phone machine countless times in the 4 or so hours it took me to pluck up the courage to return the school’s phone call. I never had to listen to the actual message as I was stood by the machine as it clicked into action and heard the patient voice at the end of the phone explain that they had received my email, thank you, and that they thought we should probably discuss it. Gulp. […]
No three year olds are ‘normal’, they are all bizarre alien beings that are put on the planet to perplex and in the same moment entertain their parents. But when you have a disabled alien you’re expected to be able to summarise each strange part of them for scientific, or indeed local council dissection. I document for faceless strangers how living and caring for my funny, beautiful, loving little boy negatively impacts on myself and my family. I had to go and sit in another room after a while as it felt like the worst kind of betrayal sitting cosily next to him answering questions about what a burden he was to me while he was leaning against me chatting away being about as cute as possible just to spite me.