I'm at the point in the week/term/year, where I'm just rolling with the punches. The boy doesn't quite have the maturity to adopt this attitude yet and was hysterical at the nursery drop-off this morning, as he saw Sarah with another baby.
School is killing me. Lessons and cover. Still marking furiously and attempting to sort new classroom. Exhaustion doesn't quite cover it.
After school brought some welcome relief in the form of afternoon tea and leaving speeches. I love that sort of celebratory occasion. It was a particular privilege to give one of the speeches about a dear friend and colleague moving on to pastures new.
Even more of a welcome relief was this evening's annual lift-share ladies' pub food and wine end-of-term celebration. I had arranged for the husband to collect the boy from me at the pub. Dexter made the most of his waiting time by toddling around in the beer garden, with me in pursuit, desperately trying to cross-examine the two male nursery workers (who were trying to enjoy a pint), about language acquisition.
After the boy went home with Daddy, the ladies and I put the world to rights. I was home by half-past nine. One more day...