David, being an accountant, is keen to hear how he's getting on in Maths. "Numbers daddy" Mac corrected and proceeded to count up to twenty without breathing - you could have knocked us both down with a calculator. They start their two times table soon apparently but the big theme at the moment is Autumn. "We're going to the park on Monday to look at Ortnum" Mac announced casually on Friday when I picked him up: I was gripped with panic. One teacher and 24 children. In a park. Out in public. Out of the safety of the classroom. I relayed my fears to Dawn, Jonathan's mum, who informed me that the three Classroom Assistants we've christened Dot Cotton (she has the same hair), Mavis Wilton (indecisive witterer) and Alice Tinker (bit dippy but warm hearted) would be going too. "But still, all those roads between the school and Peckham Rye" I went on. Dawn looked at me as if I was one of those Over Protective Mothers she's read about. I was then brought up with a start as Over Protective Mother started laying into Mr S, the form teacher, about her precious Jacob being eaten by a Rottweiler or being hit by a falling branch. Dawn and I exchanged sickly smiles and I went home with my bouncing boy.
Apart from Ortnum (I'm so glad I'm recording all these "Mac moments" on this blog!) they are learning about "Ourselves". Mac had me hooting with laughter when he told me what he had said last week during the lesson on Families. "Mummy, I said that my mummy and my daddy and I lived in a house and that my big brother lives in another house but he's not my mummy's but he's my daddy's and my Granny's". It's heartening to know that Mac understands the basic make-up of our family and it also explains the funny look I got from Mr S when I picked Mac up that day.
They're also learning about Growing Things. Mac has been given some cress seeds (well actually, he had to take in 25p to pay for them) and was asked to grow them "on an old flannel" and bring them in for Gardening Day which is next Friday. I'm pretty sure David won't miss his favourite Egyptian cotton navy blue flannel but, in case he does, I'm on the search for a new one.
During half term each child has been asked (courtesy of a letter home) to "do something relating to growing things". I'm taking him to B&Q to get some bulbs. Dawn admires my relaxed approach to things and is trying valiantly to get out of the trip to Kew Gardens that Queen Bee Mummy has signed her up for. "How did you get out of it?" Dawn demanded as she and Keen To Do Everything Right Mummy swooped on me by the school gate. "I merely said no" I said smoothly, neglecting to add that my "no" had the quiver of high pitch desperation as I grabbed Mac and ran before she could put my name down on her clipboard. I later confessed all to Dawn and she has decided to be brave and just refuse point blank to go. "I'll do it after school one day, after I've had a few drinks to calm my nerves" she added.
As I type Mac is polishing his satchel with a tub of beeswax and a bright yellow cloth, just as David showed him. David is watching him, encouraging him to "take the wax right up to the buckle son". No matter that the only things the satchel has ever carried so far is a sneaky packet of Jelly Tots given to him on his first day and a handkerchief with some of my perfume sprayed on it in case he missed me.
After his full second week he gave it back to me as "some of the Big Boys say I smell like a trollop. What's a trollop mummy?"
Education, tis a wonderful thing.