I dropped the girls at nursery this morning and it was wall to wall sobbing. The novelty has very obviously worn off, and whilst they have great fun when I’ve left them to it; whilst I’m in the building, they’re pretty committed to making me feel as guilty as possible for leaving them.
The blonde sits still on a chair with fat tears rolling down her cheeks and quietly whispers “Mummmmeeeeee”. It’s a cruel tactic. She looks so forlorn that I just want to scoop her up and pop her back in the car and take her to the office with me.
The brunette watches my every move and the minute I turn to head towards the door, she zips into action and comes staggering after me, arms outstretched. “Cuggle? Mummy cuggle?”, she shouts, before she too dissolves into tears.
It’s horrible and not altogether unexpected. They’ve been fine for the first few weeks and showed no sign of any distress. It was bound to catch up with them sooner or later.
I kiss them both and hug them tightly before reassuring them that I will return and that they will have lots of fun. They look unconvinced and desperate.
Saving me from my guilt-ridden thoughts this morning though was Luisa, their teacher, who stopped to remind me that it is Sports Day tomorrow. Ah yes, the Sports Day that the blonde refuses to take part in, and the brunette likes to be carried in!
“You need to pay at reception on your way out”, she tells me.
Don’t tell me I’ve got to cough up for their training sessions?
I hope there’s been some mistake but no, to take part in Sports Day, the competitors need to wear the specially printed Sports Day t-shirts. Of course they do.
30 dhs a pop and of course I need two of them.
I suspect that after tomorrow, they will join the Boogie Babies t-shirts at the bottom of the drawer, never to be worn again.
Unless of course one of them turns out to be an Olympic hopeful, in which case we’ll get it signed and framed and then auction it off to raise funds to pay for the nursery fees. Perfect.