I was thrust into a predicament at the weekend – should I help Master A complete his school project or not?
Rifling through his school bag on Friday, disposing of the half-eaten fruit, crisp packets and sweetie wrappers, I found a screwed up note from his teacher.
It read: “The 'What I did Over My Easter Holidays diary' is now a week overdue. Unless you want to lose house points, I will expect your diary to be on my desk first thing on Monday morning.”
A week back at school, three weeks after breaking up for the Easter break and this was the first I had heard about any holiday project. I was not amused. I was further incensed when, on asking Master A for more details, he simply looked at me blankly.
The thought of overseeing Master A complete a two-week diary, with stories, illustrations and photos, in two days did not fill me with great joy. Especially as I had planned a weekend of garden pottering in the sunshine.
I struck I deal with Master A. If he could get the words done, I would do the Blue Peter part, cutting out pictures from attraction leaflets and sticking in photos.
By noon on Saturday, Master A had done his part, completing eight write-ups of days out he had enjoyed over the holidays. He dashed outside.
“Are you coming out in the garden, Mummy?”
I’m a perfectionist so I can’t do anything by halves. I cut out pictures of sharks, dinosaurs, steam engines, from promotional pamphlets, pasted in postcards of Old and New Masters and printed off photos of Master A’s play dates, Easter Egg hunts and numerous days out.
I pasted the last photo in the Holiday Diary at 4pm on Sunday. I may have lost my weekend but I had produced a work of art; an “A*” if ever there was.
On Monday at pick-up, I casually asked the form teacher what she thought of the project. I waited for the effusive praise.
“Oh, yes, it was good – I gave him a B for effort.”
What? I did not lose a weekend for a B.
Working mum, considering taking an appeal to the headteacher.