I woke up this morning at about 5.30 am to the sound of my daughter clomping down the stairs, fully kitted out in her school uniform and shoes. When I got up, at the far more decent hour of 7, I found a fully prepared lunch box on the bench. She had written her name on it in black texta, her full name, including her age. Inside it was a piece of vegemite bread, with one crust cut off, a container of jatz biscuits, and a bunch of grapes. She had even brushed all the knots out of her hair, including the usually elusive back ones. I was very impressed. After all, she is not even 5 and a half.
I think it is quite convenient that one of us is so organised. Our family went to a barbecue for lunch yesterday and there were several other mothers there. Conversation flowed unendingly about school preparations; what went into lunchboxes, how elaborately they had covered their children's school books, or not. My contribution mainly consisted of, "I suppose I had better buy some bread on our way home," and, "What time does school start?" Sometimes I feel as if I missed out on some mothering gene. Fortunately, my daughter seems to make up for it.
In spite of my daughter's pre-dawn preparedness, we were still 5 minutes later leaving home than I had planned. Toddlers always know the best moments to fill their nappies.
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