It’s now June, which means it’s that time of year again when school children troop out onto their playing fields in their P.E kits to skip rope and race each other.
(Not competitively you understand. Oh no.)
This is also accompanied by the school’s annual request for helpers, where they need
suckers willing parents to help herd the children onto the fields, show them what they should be doing, and generally just make themselves useful.
The request always brings me out in a cold sweat and I can usually find a shoelace to tie or something urgent and/or interesting outside that needs my immediate attention.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t WANT to help. It’s just the thought of being in charge of a whole team of small people and being a RESPONSIBLE ADULT brings me out in hives.
Heck, I can just about manage to organise me and my lot, without a whole army of other small people to contend with.
They’d probably call me Mrs So and So as well. Which would be another whole level of freak out, as I’m not old enough to be a Mrs So and So.
That’s the mother in law’s name, not mine.
No. I’d much rather be on the sidelines, cheering on instead from my own little comfort zone.
How about you?