Standing at the gate chatting, as we usually do when I fetch him, when Damien’s aftercare teacher tells me she’s been thinking about next year (my heart speeds up and I hold my breath and start all but drooling at the wonderful possibilities this phrase encompasses). She says she’s prepared have him for January so I can find him a new aftercare and lift for him. My hopes are now lying all smooshed up on her driveway paving. I was SO hoping that our November ‘trial period’ would go well enough that she would agree to have him next year too. DAMN! Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN (this is me trying feverishly not to swear like I used to)! This means I have about three weeks in January to find a new aftercare- when it took me two months to find this one, and three months to find the previous one! Then she goes on to say how well behaved he’s been, how she’s had no problems with him, how he takes his meds in the afternoons without a fight- often even without being reminded, and how well he gets on with the other kids! My jaw has now joined my hopes on her driveway! And I stopped myself just in time- I was THIS CLOSE to asking her why on earth she won’t have him after January if he’s been such a pleasure! Why doesn’t she think my child is the cutest slash smartest slash friendliest- like I do? Why, why, why?! I stopped short of falling to my knees to beg and drove home more than a little puzzled, but I behaved myself in the car. I didn’t lose it once! Damien is disappointed though. He doesn’t handle change well and tends to take things like this very personally! So, instead of crying uncontrollably about our miserable luck- I blogged about it instead! Are you proud of me or what!?! Waaaaaaaahahahahahahahahahahaha! RHOTFL! Best I stop laughing hysterically now, otherwise you can call up the nice men in white coats to come and fetch me in that lovely comfy van of theirs.
And There We Were
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