The bus company is ignoring me. It seems that they may find me a bit of a nuisance.
A nuisance? Me? Absurd.
On a more positive note, Little Seymour Number One, it seems, has settled better than I could have imagined into Big School.
She’s knackered, of course. And really does NOT want to emerge from her dream pit in the mornings, but once she’s up, she’s fine. Even the bus is less daunting than it was. On the journey home on Friday, she had to cope with a pseudo-cuddle from a Year Nine girl, which we are choosing to view with humour. I am sure it was meant with humour. I hope it was meant with humour…
So, thus far, she’s coping. In fact, I might even dare to suggest that parts of the whole experience, she might even admit to enjoying.
But I don’t want to tempt fate. So I shall just say that I am proud of her. Little Seymour Number One is boldly paving the way for numbers Two, Three and Four. She’s a trailblazer, a pioneer, an ambassador.
And as a reward, she had her first proper ballroom dancing lesson this week, with a fox-trotting policeman.
As you do.
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