I accidentally ended up invigilating the Nottingham Primary Maths Competition today. I had planned a day of writing, with perhaps a short run and a dod of light housework, but no, somehow I found myself ferrying four kids to a private school and running maths relays and speed maths test etc. At least I got a free lunch (and Son's nice teacher bought me a lovely bunch of flowers, too). One of the school's teachers was meant to do it, but at the last minute she had to be somewhere else and asked, since Son was in the competition, whether I wouldn't mind taking the team. I thought she meant taking them, ie. dropping them off at the competition and picking them up afterwards. But no, I spent five hours helping run a numeracy olympics (luckily I wasn't asked to do any maths myself, as I had the answer sheet, phew). Most of the other people involved were either head teachers, or, at the very least, teaching assistants. I was just a random mum, and possibly more excited about the free chocolate biscuits on offer than the real professionals. Son was wildly excited about the whole thing, so excited, in fact, that he indulged in a little impromptu kleptomania and stole a whole box biros from the posh school that hosted the event (well, what can they expect when they invite pikey state schools through their gates?).
So, the bed sheets have not been washed, and my protagonist still hasn't had the showdown with her parents that I promised to write for her this week. However, I do have a very happy son (despite his team only coming tenth) and enough biros to last for the next decade.
Cheerio x