It's the whole cutting-the-apron-strings thing for me. I know in my heart that, whilst my pride and joy is flinging random items of clothing into his rucksack and marvelling at the adventures he and Ben are going to have, he's going to get fifteen miles down the road and demand to return home to "mummy". Of course, I could be totally wrong and this could be just the thing he needs, four days (well three and bit) without me fussing, primping and generally worrying about him. Am I? He probably won't even miss me one little bit will he? Moan, mutter, grumble.....
Not that I've mollycoddled him. Much. He's like me, a homebody, happiest when he's within his own four walls. Janey is bemoaning the age of her children: "wish they could go off with their friends for a long weekend" she said as she dug into a slice of pizza (not before picking off the mushrooms with neon pink talons). Bea is encouraging me to be "brave darling, and cut the ties that bind". This was said as she packed bags for both Caitlin and Ian who are heading off to the Norfolk Broads with Flavia the Au Pair on Saturday for a whole week. "You and David can enjoy a second honeymoon" she went on and then informed me that while her "babies" were away, she and Stephen would be going Tantric. When I told David he asked me where they were flying to. There must be a book I can buy him, you know, a beginners guide or something.
Anyway. A decision has to be made tonight. Rosie will be ringing me shortly and I know that I have to say yes. My tiny boy is upstairs, lying awake with excitement as I type. The contents of his wardrobe are all over the floor and he's already packed some toys that he "might" share with Ben.
David has already offered to pop into Boots at London Bridge tomorrow and bring me back some Kalms.