Reminded of school excursion this morning, as I’m making the lunches.
Also reminded of fact that I said I would see if I could make it as a Parent Helper for the day.
Because that’s always fun. I’m sure the teachers set me up with the kids that give me the most hell, just for a laugh.
Am torn. I have so much work to do. But feel terrible if miss out on these things. I’m not sure what I will miss out on. They are, after all, heading off to Bunnings to do some maths something. Maths is not my strong suit. Nor is Bunnings. I much prefer Officeworks. If they were heading off there, I’d be agreeing in a flash.
Walk kids to school, decide I will see how badly they need me and sort it from there. School have decided my talents (forgetting it’s excursion day today? Not having brushed my hair? Wearing Vegemite on pyjama pants when I drop kids off?) are not required this morning, so I’m let off the hook.
Plan a day of getting stuck into work, discover snot (?????????????) on the end of my pen, and am extremely miffed when technolgical stuff doesn’t happen as the very excplicit instructions don’t reflect reality.
Click on the “live help” link, and am greeted by a “virtual” helper, called Katie. My miffedness levels increase dramatically when she not only tells me to do what I’ve already done, after I’ve explained to her that it didn’t work, but when I answer her next question, I am informed that she is no longer there.
She is virtual. I doubt she needed to take a quick tea break or pop off to the loo!
Already feeling somewhat undervalued after being rejected for Bunnings excursion, being rejected by a “virtual” live chat helper while she buggers off for a smoke didn’t help.
Am extraordinarily elated when a delivery man arrives, asking me to sign for a box of wine!
Think throwing myself at him and giving him a big hug was probably a bit much.
But he didn’t have snot on the end of his funky little electronic pen thing.
Collect children from school, head off to pick Chippie up from day care, where he has settled in so comfortably that he takes the option of ignoring me and continuing to play trains.
Well, ignore me until such point as I pick him up to take him home, at which point he throws a tantrum and notices me long enough to smack me in the head with a train.