Currently writing this whilst waiting tentatively for Bethan to finish her first ballet lesson. We have had to rush straight here from pre-school and change her by spinning her round like wonder woman.
As ever, we were late and everybody was looking at us as if to say, you're late but what can you do? We're late for absolutely everything. We are 'that family' that are always late. Rob even got told off for being late to pre-school lunch club by the play leader; he was terribly affronted.
Apart from create a time machine to get us from A to B, I'm not entirely sure what to do. And even if I wanted to I couldn't tonight because I've got to make a macaroni cheese otherwise it will be another take away.
Oops, one little girl whose first lesson it is too, has just been guided into the waiting room by the teacher to find her mum because she is weeping. Feeling very nervous that Bethan will follow shortly behind.
Poor Beth. It's been a week of firsts for her and she has already done a lot of weeping. Feel guilty. Again. Not even sure why I have brought her here. She loves Brucie and Tess so much and she loves to dance.
When I was her age I was sent Irish dancing as was most of the kids from the Anglo-Irish community of Droylsden. This was pre-Flatley and that blummin Riverdance. I did ok until I went to a competition, did a kick, and my dancing shoe went flying past one of the judge's heads. Thank God it was my light shoe and not my heavy fiber-glass one. That, plus my tendency to let my left hand do whatever it wanted rather than keep it tied to my left side because I was concentrating so much on what my feet were doing, meant that my Irish dancing career ended rather prematurely.
My mind is wandering again...Sat in this waiting room is already filling me with dread and unnecessary pressure. It is full of Alpha Mums and Dads. Some are telling their children not to dirty their socks; some are competitively comparing how well their daughters are limbering up; some have Cath Kidston bags and vanity cases. I am sat here writing this blog so at least I can look down and not catch anyone's attention.
Lord! The doors are opening after the lesson. Bethan is about to appear. I can feel my buttocks squeezing tightly. How has she got on?