The Bed-time Blues.
Shane: It's late - you really need to brush your teeth now.
The Boy: But I'm not tired.
Shane: But you still need to brush your teeth.
The Boy: I'm hungry!
Emma: (fails to withhold snigger)
Shane: Look! It's li-ke... past nine o'clock.
The Boy: It's li-ke... a biscuit.
Shane: No! And don't be cheeky.
The Boy: Ohhhhhhhh.
Shane: I'm out of patience. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I need you to brush your teeth and get into bed.
The Boy: Should I get you a biscuit, too?
Shane: Brush your teeth!
We are less than one week from the official summer not-a-holiday. Many events, many places, await. As a family unit, we are ill-prepared. As a family unit, as for so many others right now, we're having a tough time - a crunchie time - nothing to do with credit, though. Friends and family ask delicate questions and they invite us to hang in there. Some promise change. The audacity of hope - that's how it feels, that's what I hear.
Parting at the school gate earlier, The Boy chirruped, 'Shane! This time next week! Puffin Cottage!' 'That's the spirit', I thought. Got to work towards that same frame of mind - hope springs internal.
He did brush his teeth, and he did sleep well. No biscuits.