Beware the bib. When you’ve got a small baby in the house, you’ll likely have had several warnings about going out with milky sick on your shoulder. Everyone knows that. No one, however, tells you about how those pesky little bibs with the Velcro fastenings can adhere to the inside of your coat, at the bottom just where you don’t notice them. Or at least not until you’ve been ambling around with the thing dangling for longer than you care to think about.
Gordon Brown has a new job. We were talking about famous people and weather or not we were likely to meet them. Boy One rushing his thoughts listed: “Oh, yes. Gordon Brown the Queen Elvis Presley.”
Teasing I asked: “Gordon Brown the Queen?”
“D’oh,” Boy Two cut in with a swagger. “Gordon Brown’s not the queen, he’s the emperor.”
Boy One has come such a very long way lately. Today was the school’s festive ta-dah and waiting for One and Two’s big moments we were charmed by the nursery school’s singing. There was lots of earnest wishing of merry Christmases. Then we spotted a wandery little chap up near the back who just didn’t know what he was there for. He meandered, sat down, drifted off and eventually lay on the floor. He reminded us of Boy One at that age – mystified, dazed and frightened by turn. Then the P6s had their moment and there was our Boy first on the stage and saying his lines in a strong voice. With the widest grin and a big thumbs up, he sang every enthusiastic word. As the Boy said: “It’s starting to feel a lot like Christmas.”