Oh my baby! He doesn't want me to become a writer!
After school yesterday I took him to the Heath. Hand in hand we walked when suddenly he says to me in stern tones:
"Why aren't you listening to me?"
Oh flip, my chatterbox boy had been chatting away and I hadn't heard a word.
"Sorry baby, it's just I've been writing to David Cameron today and I need to write to Nick Clegg and my head is just full of the words I have to put down on paper."
"Stop talking about politics mummy. I hate it when you ignore me. I want you to talk to me!"
"I know, I know but it's so important, it's about you and me. I need to finish the letters so come the weekend I'm not ignoring you, yeah?"
"No. I don't want you to be a writer mummy, I want you to be my mummy."
I laugh because I don't know how else to respond.
"Listen, it's a good thing I'm doing. It's like a job, I have to do it and you know, I could drop you off at the after school club and get it done now but I promise you yeah, I promise I'll have it done by the time I pick you up from school tomorrow. Just bear with me yes?"
The poor lad had no choice. He played, I sat on a bench and thought. He let me know he wasn't happy with me but there's a Class Tea on at school this afternoon so I'll buy him some cake.
I'll tell him job done, then shut up about it all. Well actually, I better get the job done....Yikes, so much to do, so little time! Thank goodness I like deadlines!!