Working Mum: A crime against posterity

I was still none the wiser until I happened upon a copy of our local paper.

There was a letter in Master A's satchel a couple of weeks back mentioning a photographer coming in to the school. I thought nothing of it, thinking it to be a standard snapper invited in to take the standard class portrait.

I turned to the special First Class colour pull-out, a celebration of the new intake of pupils into reception classes in the area.

Flicking though the supplement, I spied several of my friends' children peering out of the pages, looking resplendent in their shiny new uniforms.

All of them bright-eyed, excited to be having their photograph taken.

"You can't fail to spot Master A!!" kept niggling away at me as I turned page after page until the flicking stopped. There it was - Master A's first official photograph.

I scanned the surrounding class images. Children sitting crossed legged, smiling at the camera. My friend was right. One couldn't fail to spot him.

In fact, and I'm not biased here in any way, Master A was the only face you were drawn to in this sea of Reception pupils' faces.

Compared to the other group photographs, Master A's class did look incredibly scruffy; a mish-mash of styles as the school transitions from summer to winter uniform. But that wasn't the reason for his X-Factor, his stand-out style.

In the centre of the front row of the photograph sat my son. His pink protruding tongue the focal point of the picture.

Needless to say, Father Christmas will not be paying a visit, dropping down our chimney this festive season without suitable penance.

Working Mum, simply wondering where it is all going wrong.