When my (now) 5 year old was in Nursery the class toy came home with him for the weekend and I immediately went into a blind panic. He was in a private Nursery at the time (bonus of working for the group who owned it) and when the dreaded toy came home with it’s ‘diary’ to be filled in by parents who undoubtedly cancelled their plans of a lazy weekend at home, so they could take the stuffed toy on all sorts of adventures and write it up in the diary, ready for show and tell on Monday, I felt the fear.
I refused to change the weekend plans to something that cost a fortune, the best part of my sanity and set the kids up for thinking that every weekend would include a theme park/visit to the cinema/outdoor adventure and carried on with normal life. The toy came to a playground, took a ride in the shopping trolley and watched some tv with J. All photographed and documented in such sarcastic tones that the teacher never sent the toy home with us again.
It’s now 2 years later, the boys are in a new school and luckily expectations are much, much lower. Not too low though as at the end of the first week I went to pick up my little one only to be greeted by the class toy and it’s diary. I tried to argue with the teacher that it shouldn’t come home because it hadn’t been a full week but she was surprisingly firm and said she looked forward to the filled in diary on Monday. Damn. Then I remembered that it was my ex-husband’s weekend with the kids and this was no longer my problem. I sent him a quick warning text (with a lot of laughing, crying emojis), warned him not to be too sarcastic in the write up, wished him ‘God speed’ and dropped the boys off with him for the weekend.
So far, so good. and even better, he had planned a trip to Legoland to celebrate our 9 year old’s birthday. All went to plan. I had a nice relaxing weekend with no thought or mention of ‘Fluffy’ and it’s diary. My ex husband filled out the diary and on Monday we returned Fluffy with her diary and promptly forgot all about it.
It was the following Friday when I went to pick up the boys as usual and found myself (practically) lynched by the other mums in the class. ‘We hear J*** took fluffy to Legoland’ accused one wild eyed mother. I (correctly) identified her as the one who had just found herself dumped with Fluffy and her blimming diary for the weekend. Being the giving sort, I dropped my ex-husband in it, explained that if Fluffy had spent the weekend with me the solitary photo would have been of the inside of my son’s book bag and I wouldn’t even be sorry.
I think I got away with it and still have mum friends in the school playground but it was reassuring to learn that it’s not just me who dreads, pretty much anything school related during after school and weekend time. Unless it’s when the school hosts a sleepover and we get rid of the little darlings for a whole night. School then get their own back by giving the kids the following day off, wrecking our work and nursing a hangover from having celebrated too much the night before plans. Perhaps we should team up and start a petition for all school resources to be kept at school at all times. I’m sure I can find a group of mums who value their weekend plans who will sign it.