I think you all have got the gist that my little Roo, the source of most of my blog fodder, the light of my life, my sweet little princess, has started infant school this week. Ever eager to learn, she skips off into her classroom every day and comes home armed with Biff and Chip books, and artwork she’s coloured in neatly. Three days in and she’s doing well.
So yesterday, I met up with my friend Kez, mother of Roo’s best friend, and we waited patiently for our tiny ladies to be let out of school. By the time we’d got round to the pick up point, most of the other kids had already left, which provided me with an opportunity to ask her teacher how she did that day.
“Oh, fine” she said, “She doesn’t like handwriting, but none of them do at the beginning”
I will admit at this point, I was a little confused. Roo has always seemed very keen to practice her writing. She writes out all her friend’s birthday cards, is always asking me to write out words for her to copy, and has a handwriting practice book she likes to sit and do. In my experience, Roo loves handwriting.
The teacher carried on:
“She wrote ‘yucky cake’ and was keen to point out the ‘C’ in yucky, and cake”
(Don’t ask. I don’t know either. Those are two words I don’t think go together at all. Yucky cake? What is that?)
I praised Roo for her somewhat odd choice of words, and was just about to say goodbye and head on home, when the teacher said,
“Kids always come up with good excuses for getting out of handwriting, but Ruby’s is the best I’ve ever heard. I don’t know how I kept a straight face”
“She said, she couldn’t possibly do handwriting, because Daddy said you don’t do handwriting in school. So, I said I could call Daddy to tell him that you certainly do practice handwriting in school, and she said ‘Oh, you can’t get hold of him today… he’s in Oxford'”.
I tittered a little, in a ‘ho ho ho, isn’t my kid just SO imaginative’ sort of way, said our goodbyes and off we went. I thought I’d better get to the bottom of it all; it did seem quite unlikely Ross had said that.
“Roo” I asked, on the way home, “did you tell a fib about Daddy to your teacher today?”
“Is a fib the same as a porky pie?” she queried.
She thought for a moment or two, “Well, in that case, yes I did”
I think Actually Mummy has a competitor in loquaciousness.