The end of term is nigh. Normally there would be a mixture of emotions – satisfaction at another school year completed, excitement about the summer holidays and I have to admit a little bit of dread at the thought of two months playing happy families.
This year is totally different. We have already been playing happy families for three months so what’s another two months? The school year has technically been completed but we all feel a bit cheated after the best term of the school year spent at home for most. And as for summer holidays…well let’s hope this lovely weather continues because we’re probably not going anywhere this summer.
I’m feeling particularly sad for boy number one who should have been having a fantastic post-GCSEs summer filled with parties and festivals.
I decided to tackle the subject of summer holidays with boys number one and two. I am starting to think that Rickets is a real possibility for the boys who’ve spent large swathes of the last three months in a darkened room. Whilst my lockdown tan is developing very nicely, their skin has taken on a translucent ghostly tinge. Time to get them out. I made what I thought was a very reasonable suggestion: boy number one should get a holiday job. Boy number one looked at me as if I’d grown two heads. He repeated the word ‘job’ several times in a questioning tone as if I had spoken to him in an unfamiliar foreign language.
Boy number two has already sorted out his future career – apparently he’s going to be a professional X-box gamer. Apparently, he tells me, you can make millions. ‘Apparently’ is the key word here. I have to admit to being less than enthusiastic about his career aspirations. I continue to point out to him that currently the flow of money from X-boxing is most definitely away from my bank account not towards it. Boy number two is undeterred.
One thing is certain – boy number two is not going to be a rocket scientist – I mean that literally. Yesterday, he was tasked with building and launching a rocket fuelled by a mixture of vinegar and bicarbonate of soda. He proved particularly inept at this. After using a household’s annual supply of vinegar and bicarbonate of soda on repeated failed rocket launches, he gave into his frustrations and shook the bottle (rocket) violently whilst holding it. Inevitably the reluctant rocket chose that moment to launch itself, exploding into his stomach. My daughter and I were lucky enough to witness the entire humiliating incident. We laughed a lot. Unfortunately the incident was not caught on video or fortunately if you’re boy number two.
So I head towards the end of term with a smidgeon of optimism and a healthy dose of realism. Obviously for a multitude of reasons I’m hoping that the end of this term will signal the end of this extraordinary period of remote learning. In the meantime, it is going to be a long summer.