Tuesday, 25th September
Keyword for the day: Seven
When I got to the madhouse (my daughter’s) this morning, I was met by a shouting son-in-law and a tearful grandson. Despite it having taken him twenty minutes to put his socks on yesterday morning, he had apparently surpassed himself this morning and hadn’t put them on at all. Now that wouldn’t have mattered, had he (a) eaten his breakfast (b) cleaned his teeth and (c) found his book bag, coat and shoes – but he hadn’t.
‘It’s not fair,’ he sobbed, looking at me for sympathy. ‘Sophie gets everything done for her.’
‘Sophie’s only three years old,’ retaliated his dad. ‘For goodness sake, Tyler, you are seven years old. Surely you can remember to put your own socks on!’
On the way to school, we had a little chat and I told him that I could remember being seven and in trouble all the time.
‘But I do everything wrong, miss things out and forget things,’ he sniffed. ‘I’m always getting told off for it. I just can’t stop myself thinking about different things and then I forget what I’m doing.’
Hmm … not really much difference between Tyler and his granny then!