The Parents Evening Dreads

It wasn’t something I thought of when we were getting Rian ready to start school. I was full of thoughts of uniforms, label sewing, fretting about whether he would be scared or lonely, or he wouldn’t eat or ask to go to the loo and crap himself and then be forever known as Rian McPoopy Pants. You know, the usual worries.

What I hadn’t thought to worry about though was Parents Evening. Argh!

If your child hasn’t started school yet, I’ll tell you something now: don’t expect them to tell you anything. At all. If they can remember what they had for lunch it will be a miracle. The most I can ever get out of Rian is “good stuff” and judging by the stains, he is mainly subsisting on pasta bolognese and baked beans. I once read somewhere that children at this age still haven’t quite differentiated themselves from their parents – because they are doing it, they assume you know all about it, so why remember to tell you? Maddening but also cute.

I have been known to have a rather over active imagination when it comes to fretting about things. Because I couldn’t get anything out of Rian about how he was getting on in school, here are some of the things I worried about from the scraps I did get:

The Lothario Situation

Right from the start of school, Rian has said that his girlfriend is R – a delightfully cheeky little girl who he had apparently “won” as his girlfriend from his best friend. This was bad enough, but by the end of term, another little girl, M, had seemingly made a play for Rian’s affections – he told me that he was going to marry M, but that R was still his girlfriend. OMG! What if they started fighting over him? Would the teacher be having to tell us that Rian was the class Lothario and that it was distracting them all from their work? Why are 5 year olds even in these situations? Naturally this wasn’t mentioned. I am an idiot.

The Fart Machine

I’ve written before about the boy’s obsession with his bottom toots. He’s got a brass band in his trousers. I fear this must be compounded by his school dinners which, when he can remember what they were, seem to consist of the daily option paired with beans. He even has pasta and beans, the dirt bag. So naturally I was worried that his teacher might take us to one side and state her concern about the state of his bowels, or report that he was gassing his classmates.

The Mule Scenario

My kid is nothing if not stubborn. Jeez, it’s ridiculous how hard he can dig his heels in. And most of the time it’s utterly irrational. Like the other day when we had to walk for 10 minutes instead of hopping on the bus. It was pretty miserable and Rian was whining, and instead of just walking faster to get there quicker, he stopped. In the rain. Refused to budge. I had to pick him up – he was planking by this point – and carry him up the road, with him screeching at the indignity the whole way. Was he like this at school?! No of course not. The little bugger is – and I quote – “a delightful child”. Delightful!

Did you worry about parent’s evening? Hope they all go well…!