Skip to main content

Poker Face?

The Prince says that if I feel strongly about something it's written all over my face. Bluntly? I am not good at hiding my emotion. True true. Honestly, if I don't like someone, I can barely actually look at them. (But don't think that means I don't have a mean poker face. Poker is not an emotional game and I don't care if I win or lose -- which means I am damn good at bluffing.)

So given my emotive facial map, you can imagine what's been going on with me at The Rabbit's school. I can't look at the teacher. I usually work in the classroom once afternoon a week. Thankfully I had a hideous case of food poisoning on my designated day last week. (Believe me, I preferred this.) But with the next one looming up (and thankfully the last) I know I have to get out of it or risk foaming at the mouth during Circle Time.

Given that there are just a few weeks left, and many half days strewn in between, I feel comfortable with bowing out for work reasons .... and making The Prince deliver the message.

Comments

Mom Tu-Tu said…
I had teacher problems this year with my sons preschool teacher. I symathize with whatever you're dealing with!

Popular posts from this blog

The Grim Reaper

Firstborn is obsessed with death. It started with the odd comment, such as; "Mummy, what happens when you die?" OK, I thought, I was expecting this at some point, what a cute little curious brain she has. So I trotted out all the cosy Heaven stuff and left out all the things that could worry her, such as worms and bones and holes in the ground. This went down pretty well, although somehow Firstborn made the jump from my view of Heaven (filled with love, joy, always warm, never rains, has a huge discount designer shoe outlet and I never have to pay my Visa bill) to her own view of Heaven; a wonderous place where small girls don't have to eat their vegetables before they're allowed pudding, and where Barbie dolls grow on trees. Anyway, I digress. Last week Firstborn started shouting "Kill! Kill!" in a bloodthirsty tone while bashing her hithero-beloved teddy against the wall. This was topped by her purposely flushing her favourite My Little Pony down the loo. ...

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

A friend recently emailed me to say that her big memory of her stay with us last year is that she had a great birthday, one of the few where she didn't 'act like a spoiled grumpy princess'. She tried to give me all the credit but as I explained to her, it was all down to having a fellow female organising the birthday fun rather than leaving it to her partner. Her email got me thinking about birthdays and how very different men and women are in their attitudes to celebrating special occasions. It also had me thinking about my birthday two years ago when I threw a major tantrum in the Carrefour car-park after being told that we were off to do the weekly shop, kids in tow, which was simply the final straw at the end of a very uninspiring day. In contrast, my birthday last year was rather lovely (a morning on my own in a spa with no mobile coverage, pure selfish bliss). This year - in a few short months, eek! - I'll be hitting the grand old age of 38. This will be my las...