Alarm clocks, Glee, breakfast, snow, dogs
Spud had to be up at six-thirty this morning, to catch an early bus to school for a rehearsal of The Bacchae, in which he’s playing The Messenger, 1970s’ style. He’s in two plays in two months; he obviously wants to catch up on the five years he wasn’t performing.
He took my alarm clock and set his phone alarm, as he doesn’t need me to get him up on a Saturday. Of course I woke about six and lay in bed for forty-five minutes, waiting for him to get up. I don’t want to be a mollycoddling mummy, believing that children should take responsibility for themselves at some point, especially on Saturdays but, by 6:46 I could stand it no longer and I jumped out of bed to harry him along. I walked in on him as he was changing.
Oops, I did it again, as Rachel sang in Episode 2, Series 4 of Glee. I snuggled on the couch under my Vivquilt, catching up on some TV, eating cereal and sipping hot tea while Spud glowered around me. I don’t envy him, going out in the dark and cold and snow. There’s something to be said for letting your kids grow up – bad weather is no longer to be feared every Monday to Friday, 08:30-09:00 and 15:00-15:30 in term time.
We’ve had a fair bit of snow in Stockport but it’s not worthy of the name. It has been constant but fine, useless for playing in. Even the dogs showed no interest and they usually love snow. On our walk yesterday I had to drag Molly. It was like pulling a hairy sled.
I’ll probably leave her at home today and just walk Toby. She is snuggled under a fleecy blanket on the couch and I don’t expect to see her until lunch time.
It has started snowing again. I think I’ll join her. Toby can walk himself; it’s Saturday.