Moving moment

I got a call from the youngest’s pastoral care teacher yesterday and freaked out.

I was frantically wondering how to explain why she wasn’t in class … and at the beach instead … when he explained he was calling to tell me how great she was.

Oh! My heart!

He raved about how well she had fitted into the school, how much she would be missed, how great her attitude had been each day and the wonderful friends she’d made.

He didn’t mention the pot plant she’d given him the day before, but I’m sure that added to his delight in my child.

I was so touched that he’d taken the time to pick up the phone. That is someone who genuinely cares about his students and just one of the many reasons that teachers deserve to be paid handsomely for the awesome job they do.

I may have cried when I hung up.

By contrast, the head of pastoral care at the youngest’s old school gave a speech on information night in year 7 that was mainly about how high the girls’ socks should be.

I am so sad she is leaving her wonderful high school. Even sadder after the lovely phone call yesterday.

In other news, I booked myself in for a COVID booster shot at 11.15am yesterday and was turned away because my maths is so terrible. I had counted on my fingers that it was five months since my last shot.

Yep, on my fingers. And I got it wrong.

It was only four months since my last jab.


I’d made the lawnmowing guy move his truck from the driveway so I could importantly hoon off to the appointment. When I returned he asked how it had gone and I dug myself into a hole by lying and saying it had been totes easy.

He asked if it was any different to the other injections and my heart sank as I lied again.

“Nah, exactly the same!”

Last night I went to the eldest’s kindy reunion, without the eldest, who decided to stay at home in bed. As I stood there surrounded by other parents, I felt my heart clench in mild panic.

The words “superspreader event, superspreader event” kept echoing in my head.

But I stayed because it was so great to see everyone and marvel at how their little ones had grown up. I was very disappointed when I needed to go home and frantically do freelance work for three hours.

Speaking of superspreader events, I am glad the bloke who caught COVID at a Sydney party and broke quarantine to share it with hundreds of people at a Newcastle nightclub has been fined $10,000.

I am not glad he was named and shamed by the media. I remain steadfastly opposed to lynch mobs.

Catch you next week.

Song of the day: Fleetwood Mac “Little lies”

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