KS2 SATs are over for another year. My baby can relax a bit now and enjoy her residential away next week. There’s a no eating in their rooms rule, so naturally, as kids, they all want to smuggle in a bit of contraband… and why not?
All kinds of drama has gone on over whether to, and how to, do this. As rebels go, her and her classmates are hardly contenders. I bought all manner of goodies for her to take, but she has rebuffed my donations to the cause as “too risky”. (Can I point out that was a large Galaxy and some jelly sweets, not a fecking nine-bar and sheet of microdots!!) Stories of how I was full of ideas on how to smuggle things into places, being of the rave generation, had to be saved for another time….like when she’s about 25 years older!)
Anyway, her bag is now packed (for the eighth time). She has secretly stashed half a dozen Jolly Ranchers and now thinks she’s right up there with Howard Marks.
The joy of youth eh?
My other daughter had her mate sleep over last night, watching horror films on Sky movies. Refusing to entertain any suggestions of mine as to what constituted a ‘good scary movie’. We ended up watching ‘Ouija’. Don’t bother. It was pretty lame.
Had one of those “do as I say, not as I do or have done” parenting conversations when the suggestion of playing with a Ouija board themselves came up. Not in my house! Stay away from that shit.
She’s 13 in a couple of months. The glory years. The wonder years. Time of ‘fit lists’ back in the day. I found a surviving copy from circa 1985 in a scrap book. Holler up and high-five if you think you spot yourself or a mate.
Incidentally, I have no idea who Butch or John are.
No idea what the gift was that came with it. (Perhaps you can remind me next month when we meet up again SandraZoo).