Today is Wednesday. This is by far the wee man's favourite day of the week. This is because he gets to go to a baby sensory class, and he gets to see Lisa, the lady who runs it. I think it's fair to say he smiles more for Lisa than he does for me and seems to have more fun in that hour than the whole of the rest of the week for me. I have resigned myself to this fact. He KNOWS when we arrive at the venue what is coming in the next hour.
However he is not the only baby whose eyes light up at the sight of Lisa. The other babies at points clamber over each other to get her attention. I imagine when all the parents turn their backs the babies are trying to out do each other with cartwheels, handstands, rectiles of Chopin sonatas and renditions of The Canterbury Tales in the middle English, all to impress her. When we, the parents, turn back they all return to their drooling and cranky ways. I need to ask her how she does it. He has in fairness been going since he was a wee pip, The Chancellor took him before I took over so it has been in his life forever. But what happens the term stops? I'm not sure I can give him as much excitement as he gets there. He will look at me wearily and sigh. 'You're not Lisa'. He will say, 'So please don't even pretend.' A sorry state of affairs for me I think.
I have two weeks left and will have to find something to fill the void. There is a selfish reason for sadness too as the place where it is held has a pretty good cafe with an excellent choice of baked goods and if you get there early enough bacon sandwiches. The wee man sleeps after the session so I get a chance to eat in peace with some friends.
I can't bring myself to tell him it's coming to an end, he will probably collapse on a fainting couch dramatically and put the back of his hand to his forehead and cry 'Oh no Dad, oh no!'
jpr
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