I was there when…
You, the dear reader, may expect this kind of blog post title to lead into a fervid description of some event of relative or even national importance.
Let me warn you now, it’s not going to. Not today anyway.
Rather, here is the place I choose to record that I was there when…
My youngest daughter came home and told me she had had X education at school (with a heartfelt shudder and a grimace)
My oldest daughter came home from school with a bag full of vegetable soup (which she drained and ate)
I was there when… and it felt like we could probably sink no lower as a family unit, for just a second, before we laughed quite immoderately, truth be told.
How can you not when the book your daughter is receiving her X education from is entitled ‘My Mother Laid An Egg’ and next week’s will be ‘Hair in Unusual Places’ How can you not curl up with laughter?
For the record I should like the world to know that the X-educated daughter was not entirely ignorant of the facts around procreation (and who ever thought the Facts of Life covered either sex or life must have been either a) a nun b) insane) but that she is of squeamish disposition and felt that she would rather have been appraised of the situation in Year 6. She is in Year 5.
She also reported that the boys showed a great deal more interest in the subject than the girls (apart from one who ran away) and that the girls had worked out that they would have ‘a lot more to do’ growing up than boys. The girls gave X education a thumbs down; the boys a thumbs up. Such is the way of the world?
For my own record, I would like to add that ‘Hair in Unusual Places’ is a terrible title for what I imagine will be a book all about hair in all the usual places, were it not for society’s obsession with women, and now men, going about their daily business like skinned rabbits.
My other daughter ate her vegetables, formerly known as soup. She has already done all this X education stuff at school and it is of no interest to her currently because her school is full of Munchkins and she is an Amazonian warrior. Good. Now I’m off to grow my moustache.
I’m not joking.
(There’s not really a photo for this post – is there?)