Invisibility

Thursday was the school's performance of Oliver.  This was the same day I was admitted to the clinic.  I had spent most, if not all, of the day in tears.  Not for any good reason only that mostly I just wanted to die and couldn't.

My son had a role in the chorus so it wasn't like I was going to be missing his lead performance.  But for him, being in the chorus was a big deal.  It was one of those moment that I looked into the future and could see him telling his therapist in 20 years time how his mother was so ill with depression all the time that she couldn't even come see his breakthrough stage performance.

Suitably tranquilised and against doctor's orders, I made my way to the theatre.  My daughter had planned her own special little party.  Laden with a vast quantity of sweets with her best friend in the seat next to her, we all sat down and watched the tremendous performance unfold before us.

The interval was excruciating.  When one is depressed, one wants nothing more than to be invisible.  I didn't have the energy, the courage, or the desire to talk to any one, even the people who love me more than their luggage.  Luckily, those people understood that.  I was given some soul engaging hugs and hand squeezes.  I was given encouraging winks and nods.  My efforts to keep my head down and my gaze averted did draw numerous stares but those seemed to unsettle my husband more than me.  You can't see what you can't see.

Back in the clinic, my night's sleep was interrupted continuously with nightmares of people crushing me, sitting on me, pushing me, suffocating me.  I yelled out numerous time.  By 5 am I had given up on the idea of restful sleep and started the morning off with a good long cry.

I've managed a shower today.  I managed to go to the art class.  I have eaten all three meals today.

My back pain is being alleviated by anti inflammatory and pain meds.  My whole body itches and I keep scratching until I bleed.  This is probably anxiety related.  The anti depressants haven't kicked in yet but they will soon.  I hope.

What I can tell you is that the outpouring of support and love is overwhelming.  Don't take this the wrong way and sufferers of mental illness will understand, it doesn't really help but it is nice to have.  I really appreciate the flowers, the chocolate, the biscuits, the STRAWBERRY shower gel, and the words of encouragement and motivation.  I am most grateful for the unconditional love.  Thank you.  You know who you are.  xxxx

Dyslexia

My daughter was diagnosed with severe dyslexia last week.  She has also been diagnosed with severe dyscalculia.

Now I know lots of famous people have dyslexia (and probably dyscalculia) and lots of not famous people are afflicted as well.  But that doesn't help my daughter.

It might seem late for us to realise that she has dyslexia.  In fact, way back when Abigail was in Reception, age 4, I had my suspicions.  By age 5, I knew.  But the eductional professionals insisted that it was way too early to tell.  So we waited. Last year, we had a preliminary confirmation of the dyslexia but the degree of the impairment was unknown. 

In the middle of last year, Abigail had been seeing an Addiontal Education Needs teacher and was getting loads of support from the school.  We saw a massive improvement in her reading ability and small gains in her maths.  But let me put this in perspective for you.

Where Abigail could not read at all at the beginning of last year, she was able to sound out 3, 4, and some 5 letter words.  But quite often she guessed and she got it wrong.  Reading took a long time. She was frustrated because there is no one on this planet who tries harder than Abigail.

Then it started to impact everything else.

So we called in a professional. 

Dyslexia is a language processing neurological abnormality.  Her brain can't process language, either when you are speaking to her, partiuclarly quickly, or reading, or writing.  Even when she is trying to speak to others, she struggles with getting the words out of her mouth.

Then the panic and anxiety sets in.  She becomes tense and hostile.  Then she becomes frustrated.  Then she becomes distraught.  Finally, she begins to think she is stupid and dumb.  When, in fact, she is neither.  She is incredibly bright and clever and funny and friendly and polite and wonderful in so many ways.

Just not the way school requires her to be.  As I parent, there is nothing worse than watching your child go through this.

Dsycalculia is the same processing abnormality except that it applies to all mathematical concepts.  So for example, she has no idea what adding 4 and 1 together should be.  She has to use a number grid and count everything out.

Sure there are worse things in life.  She doesn't have cancer.  She can walk.  She isn't going to die in the foreseeable future. 

But that doesn't mean that my heart isn't breaking in a million pieces as I try to process this and plan what to do about her future as she may need a specialist school.

The diagnosis does go a long way to explaining some characteristics we've noticed.  Abigail enjoys playing with younger children.  They speak more slowly and more simply.  She can process that.  Abigail has a wild and wooly imagination.  She can get  lost in the world inside her head for hours.  She often gets "carried away", as she says.  I call it distraction.

So, I have dealt with this the only way I know how.  I am researching on the internet.  I am in contact with various support organisations.  I have ordered and have already begun to read stacks of books.  I've bought countless apps for her iPad.  We will have a plan.  I don't know what that plan is yet.  But we will get there.

But first I must figure out a way to explain this all to Abigail.  And, for me, this is proving the most difficult.  She knows she struggles.  But I can't quite get my head around what and how to tell her.

In the meantime, if anyone has any sage advice, I am open and willing to listen to any and all experiences.

Stayover to Surpliced

This past Christmas holiday our family had to depart from our normal traditions and rhythms as one member stepped into a new role and had additional responsibilities.  Sebastian was to take on the full duties of being a chorister and this meant that the rest of the family were going to have to hang on for the ride.  I wasn't sure how this was going to work.  I mean he wasn't going to be home for our Christmas morning.  We were going to have attend more church in a week's time than we have all year.

Now normally, the biggest challenge this would present for me is that I would actually have to change out of my pajamas on Christmas day.  But since our daughter Abigail was born on Christmas Eve, we had the small challenge of a very excited soon to be 7 year old feeling like she was just as special as a chorister who needed to sing.

We dropped Sebastian back off at the boarding house on 20th December.  I saved every tear until he had walked through the door and I had heard it latch.  I thought my heart was breaking and I had one of those moments of doubt that all parents have when they second guess their judgment fearing they aren't doing what is best for their child.  The reality of the situation is I was doing exactly what was best for Sebastian.  It just didn't feel so great to me.  It was really this idea of me needing him more than he needed me starting me in the face and I was struggling to reconcile that in my heart.

We attended 2 carol services during the week.  One was sung just by the boy's which was fabulous because we rarely get to hear the boys sing without the lay clerks (men) accompanying them.  The other carol service was for the community of Windsor Castle.  That includes all the people who work and serve in the castle.  This was nice because the various fractions each did their own reading during the service.  So the Metropolitan Police and the armed forces were represented.  The chapel was packed for both services.

During the week, the boys attended a number of parties hosted in their honour including one by the Governor of the Castle and another by the Dean.  They performed at the City of London Club.  They played LaserQuest and went to the cinema.  Basically, they had a jolly old time and did a fair bit of singing (which is fun for them)!


I wanted to make the birthday celebration extra special since her brother couldn't be with us.  But who really wants to go to a child's birthday party on Christmas Eve?  Luckily, our friends rallied round us.  2 girls who Abigail consider to be her big sisters agreed to come round with their mother despite the inconvenience of the day.  1 of the sisters of another chorister who just happens to be about the same age as Abigail came along and even brought one of her cousins, also of a similar age.  We had the perfect party for a perfect 7 year old.

We then hung out and tried to stay awake for our trip to midnight mass,which isn't exactly at midnight but close.  This was unique because we got to go into the chapel whilst the choir was practising.  We never get to see the choristers practise.  Then the boys went out and the church filled up.

All the lights in the chapel were turned off. And magic happened.  The chapel is truly an ancient historic building.  Originally built in 1348, it is the final resting place of King Henry VIII and Jane Seymour amongst many others.  Because it is part of our daily life, I sometimes take this place for granted.  Doesn't everyone have an royal chapel in which to attend church?

But the lights have always been on.  Or the light has always streamed through the glorious stain coloured glass.  Never has it been dark.  So dark.

From the front of the quire, a lone chorister's voice sang out the first verse of "In Royal David's City".   You could have heard a pin drop.  It was one of the sweetest and purest sounds I have ever heard.

The choristers then processed down the centre aisle and sang like angels to celebrate the birth of Jesus.  There were not many dry eyes in the house.  Everyone had goose bumps.

Back down at the school, all the choristers had bags of goodies waiting for them on their beds and then it was quick into the sack so Father Christmas could come and go before they had to rise at 8:30 for the morning Christmas service.  Unfortunately, we had to get home and get Abigail into bed before Father Christmas could do his duty here.  7:30 came early for us and we were back at the school by 10.

After the morning matins we had Christmas lunch in the school dining hall.  I must confess it was odd sharing this most intimate of family holidays with acquaintances and some strangers.  But we were all in the same boat and we made the very best of it.  Luckily, we had a great table of fun and funny people and we laughed a lot and drank a lot and just generally had a wonderful time.

At 3, it was time for our final trip up the 100 steps (which just for the record is 123 steps).  I figure I actually lost weight over the holiday because I climbed those blooming steps so many times.  For this service we were allowed back into the quire (which is where we normally sit for evensong but because of the Christmas crowds we had spent the week sitting in the nave).  And to be honest, we were back to the staunch choir supporters.  The crowds were gone.  For the most part, it was the choir and the chorister's parents.  And they sang just for us.  And they sang beautifully.  And my pride bubbled over and dribbled out of my eyes and down my cheeks.

And when our son walked down the steps with us for the last time of 2010, I reflected on what an amazing journey this has been for both him and us. 

In February with a bit of good luck and a fair wind, Sebastian will be surpliced.  He does have to complete an assessment.  If he is successful at the final assessment it means he will transition from a novice to a full chorister.  He will get to wear a white robe over his red cassock.  He will get to wear a red tie (which only the 17 or so full chorister in the entire school wear).  He will have a special tie when he leaves the school that he can wear in adulthood.  Of course with all that, it means he will also board more.  He will have the additional responsibilities of Sunday services which will mean he will now have to board on Saturday nights and we will only have him home from 1-4 on Sundays.

But this is what he has been working towards for the last 18 months.  It is what he wants and he is darn good at it.  I just can't believe the little man he is becoming.  I am so proud.

When I dropped Sebastian off at boarding school Sunday night I asked him what was his favourite bit of the Christmas holiday.  I wasn't surprised when he cited the Christmas stay over.  Well, that's about the end of my guilt trip then.

Roller Disco Queen

I took a sweet trip down memory lane yesterday.  My children went to a roller disco party and I was instantly transported back to the certain roller rink in Lakewood, Colorado on Alameda.

From the age of 14, my posse of girlfriends and I would spend an entire afternoon doing our hair and getting dressed for the big night that was Saturday night at the roller rink.  All week we whispered our plans, passed notes and agonised over what we would wear, who would be there and whose parents had drawn the short straw for transportation arrangements.  If we were lucky someone's older sibling had gotten permission to use the car but that rarely happened.  Clearly, we needed supervision.

We would be dropped off after feathering our hair (which could take hours) and spraying it down (a tornado couldn't move that hair).  Usually our makeup had to go on after we left home so it was straight into the ladies' room or I would try to plan on getting ready at someone else's house so my mom couldn't see how much makeup I put on.  Or how tight my trousers were.

I had saved every penny from babysitting and working at Wendy's Hamburgers to buy myself a pair of roller skates.  They were white with hot pink wheels and hot pink laces.  I loved those skates.  Every Sunday morning I inspected them for scuff and promptly applied white polish if there were any scuffs.

I was a pretty good skater but never brilliant.  I could skate backwards and go in circles but speed scared the living daylights out of me.  Still does!  I was always very impressed with those boys who could skate really well but they always ended up with the girls who could skate very well too.  That wasn't me.

It was a good night if the boy you fancied from the side asked you to skate with him during one of the night's 4 couple skates.  I didn't get asked very often.  One of the 4 skates was always ladies' choice where the girls could ask the boys.  Usually I fancied the best looking boy and by the time I worked up the courage to approach him, the boy I wanted to skate with had been swept away by someone else.  I usually asked someone else when there was less than a minute left to skate.  What a loser!

By 10:30 the evening was over and we were headed home.  No doubt one of us would be in tears, usually about a guy.  One of us was over the moon, usually also about a guy.  One of us was planning our strategy for next week.  That one was usually me.

Through the magic of Facebook I've actually found a couple of the girls that were in the skating posse.  Leisa and Robin will recognise the routine and anguish we went through but hopefully the giggles and fun we used to have.

Today's lights and music made me feel like it was all just yesterday as I watched my son and daughter take their first tentative steps on to a roller rink.

Le Freak, C'est Shiek!  YMCA!  Oh what a night, late December back in 63, what a very special time to me, what a lady, what a night!

Tap, Ballet, & Charlie

The last weeks before the end of term culminates in the children displaying much of what they have learned in the term just gone.

A few weeks ago I was treated to seeing everything (such as it was) that Sebastian has created in Art, Design Technology (DT), ICT (Information Computer Technology), and Games/Physical Education. Not a single Art project was complete as there appears to be a problem with Sebastian finishing his choir practice and getting to art class but he manages to get a B for all the effort he puts into it. DT displayed a lovely bridge which was capable of holding 36 tins of baked beans which sounded like an awful lot but it was clear that he had once again run out of time to complete the centre support due to instrument lessons and his 36 was far short of the record of 116 tins. Sebastian continues his challenge with sport (literally). He is so much smaller than everyone else he quite simply keep up and no one understands this better than his mother. His attitude though had suffered and he seemed to just throw in the towel. Luckily that seems to have ceased and he gives it a bit more effort this term. Shame he can't get his clothes changed in under 15 minutes as he tends to miss most of the lesson by taking his sweet time changing clothes. I reckon its all a cunning plan. Sebastian is a geek just like his good ole mum and dad. He excels at ICT. What else would one expect? He can show me a thing or two about using a computer.


Sebastian also had two instrument exams this term on successive days. First was his violin exam on a Monday and then his piano exam on the Tuesday. I was a bundle of nerves. He, on the other hand, took his 1 hour cram violin lessons at Eton College which left his arms like jelly, just the day before the exam. He reported back to us that he feels he did "pretty ok". Not sure what that means or what the results are for either exam as the results don't come back for a few more weeks here. I am sure he did very well on his piano exam as he finds that much easier. Neither Marc nor I play a musical instrument so his prowess surprises us every day.


I was honoured to attend Abigail's tap and ballet performances. This is her first year doing tap and let's just say she ain't got much natural tapping rhythm. Lucky for her we don't currently have a video camera and I had broken the photo camera just before the tap performance. On the other hand, this is the 4th year she has been doing ballet and she has gotten quite good at it. She had beautiful posture. Her hands are delicate and she seems to have lovely expression in her free dancing. She seems so confident. It has to be said though that her best moves are clearly to MTV or the radio when she'll just start dancing madly around the house. Wonder where she gets that from? And we got the camera repaired and I have lots of beautiful photos of her exquisite poses.


The pinnacle of the excitement of the last week was the "Evening with Roald Dahl" performance where Sebastian had the honour to have a part as one of the leads as Charlie (from Chocolate Factory fame). We had practised his lines over and over but at the dress rehearsal Sebastian hadn't done well and needed to be prompted with every line.

His final performance displayed none of those missteps. He didn't miss a single line. After the show he confided that before going on stage he was very nervous but that once he was there "it felt like I was a different person and I just became very confident". I did point out to him that being a different person was exactly what acting was all about. I don't think he quite got it but his performance was fab with some impeccable comic timing. He is clearly very talented at acting. Wonder where he gets that from?

After all that excitement, we need a back!

Sports Day Performances

Despite the persistent threat of rain, we managed a whole day of hilarious sporting performances from our children. I wouldn't look to see either of our children in any Olympics anytime in the future. But they sure enjoyed themselves!

Silence is Golden

Sebastian participated in raising money for a cancer charity by keeping silent at school. Here's the local press coverage. Can you find him in the photo?

Victory House

Just like in the Harry Potter novels, Sebastian's school is divided into houses: Victory, Revenge, Vindictive and Rodney. Yeah, not sure I get Rodney either but I have it on good authority that the houses are named after battleships. Never heard of Rodney but that's just the way it is.

Sebastian is a member of Victory. Not entirely sure how they decide on which house which pupil gets in but I am fairly certain it is not a magic hat.

Last week the school had an interschool football (soccer) match. This meant that the various years played each other and won games for their house. Since Sebastian is on the C team this may be one of the few times/year he actually gets to play a real match.

The good news is Victory was victorious and took 2nd place. Those darn Revenge pupils took first but that is merely a temporary setback.

Another Harvest Festival

You never know what you got til it's gone.

Lat year I hadn't fully appreciated that children didn't participate in a Harvest Festival after Year 2 so I didn't fully appreciate that it was Sebastian's final performance at the same time as it was Abigail's first. Maybe I should have videod that one. Oh well, that poignant moment is well gone.

This year we got to watch Abigail in all her glory and she performed very well. She sang all about the magic penny (give it away and you have more) and recited a poem about the role of the farmers (very important person if you want to eat). She stood perfectly and didn't even wave. She even cast me a disapproving glare when I blew her a kiss making it very apparent that such public displays of affection would not be reciprocated when she was on stage and in character.

At the end the chaplain led a very moving prayer about how lucky we are to have food on the table and live in a country where there are no wars being fought in our streets or in our fields. How lucky we are to have access to clean water and state of the art medical care. And how lucky we are to attend some of the best educational institutions in the world.

I'm not sure Abigail understands everything she has to be grateful for. I think she was grateful that she had a mother and father who didn't embarrass her. I was grateful she still has a few more years to perform in a Harvest Festival.

Eton in the Press

Absolutely undoubtably the very best article about Eton ever written! Christopher Hitchens is a genius!

School Bags and Helicopters

During the school week on any given day, Sebastian and Abigail have anywhere from 2 bags and 6 school bags to remember to take to school and bring home. These school bags contain the various pieces of kit they need to do their activities at school. These activities include, piano lessons, ballet, pe, judo, violin lessons, swimming, games and just their normal homework bag. They also need to remember to wear every day without exception their blazers and caps/hats. Now you might say these rules are harsh. But these are the rules and part of our contract with the school we have chosen is that we follow their rules.

Obviously, Abigail at 4 (nearly 5) requires a bit of help. I have put a laminated sheet on the refrigerator with little pictures of the activities and she does pretty well in the morning checking it and will invariably go running for her hat if she has forgotten it before running out the door. but of course she has 1/4 of the kit to remember.

Sebastian is another story altogether and he's been doing this for much much longer.

Monday as I was standing at the school gates I was approached by a mother/nanny who handed me one of a pair of Sebastian's football shin pads. Luckily, this one had his name written in big bold permanent marker all over it, a hard learnt lesson after 2 previous pairs of shin pads went missing during last school year. I spotted Sebastian sauntering back from the playing fields urged on by two of his football coaches. Seb was wearing his brand new (literally 4 weeks old) school shoes. He had obviously been wearing said shoes to play football in. It was a wet rainy muddy day on the football pitch and the shoes were soaked through.

I was incredulous and asked Sebastian where his football boots were. He didn't know. I asked him where his trainers (tennis shoes) were. He didn't know. I pointed out that his new school shoes were ruined. He shrugged his shoulders and said we could get him a new pair.

I had a meltdown. Two very important lessons we as parents MUST teach our children is the value of money and respect for property. But how? Well, I'll tell you: I emptied his room of all of his property and informed him I was selling it on eBay to try to buy him some new shoes (3 pairs at this point). Of course I don't think I couldn't buy myself a beer with the proceeds were I to do such a thing but I think he might be getting the idea.

So what does all this have to do with helicopters? I've read several articles recently about the new epidemic of helicopter parenting and I am shocked. The stories I read detail how parents go on job interviews with their 20 something grown children or negotiate their salaries and benefits packages. Parents are even calling in sick to work for their adult-children. But the worst story I've heard is where a father called up his daughter's future manager to explain that his precious little girl "was particularly sensitive and would require an harmonious environment to work in". Are they having a laugh?

Children must learn to take care of themselves, be able to learn from setbacks and address their own disappointments in life. In short children must learn to cope with the consequences of their actions. This will ensure that they are capable decision makers and responsible contributing members of society when they are adults (and their parents are no longer around to make their decisions for them).

So, just how much should I interfere to ensure that Abigail and Sebastian are well prepared for their school day? I firmly believe that parents should include independence and self sufficiency in their critical success factors for child rearing. Should I let Sebastian incur minus points (which could eventually lead to detention/expulsion) for losing his football boots and trainers or failing to wear his cap? Should I take away his savings (and any future earnings for the next 2 years) to replace the lost items? Should I pull him out of those elective activities which could possibly hamper his future prospects?

Of course my natural impulse is to make sure he's got everything with him when he leaves in the morning and when he comes home in the evening. But then I'm just a helicopter.

First Day Back to School

Yesterday was the first day back to school. It was a big transition day for everyone involved.

Abigail started full days. She arrives at school at 8:10 am and doesn't come home until 3:30 pm. Some days she won't come home until 4 or 4:15 due to school activities. She eats lunch in the dining hall and is responsible for filling and carrying her own plate. She is responsible for undressing and dressing herself for school activities like swimming and gym. She was excited and I was anxiety ridden. I am sure she didn't give me a second thought whilst I managed to work yesterday with my stomach of knots.

Sebastian transitioned to Middle School which means he has to wear a tie and carry bags which weigh more and are bigger than him. He started his violin lessons and assumed an air of confidence.

Both arrived home last night full of stories about their day. They were so excited as they slip that little further away from us. I am so proud of what we have accomplished!

Name Tags

It's that time of year again. I spend every spare moment in the evening sewing names tags on the various pieces of uniform for the children to start school. I have to sew names tags on everything including each sock and their underpants.

Sebastian has quite a bit of new kit as his uniform changes slightly and his games kit grew enormously so this is no small task. As always, I have to shorten his trousers. Abigail's uniform stays mostly the same so I've just got to do what I replaced due to wear or growth.

I've finished with everything; just have some underpants and socks to finish off.

My fingers hurt.

Tying Lessons

Neither of my children can tie their shoes. Mainly because neither of them own or have ever owned a pair of shoes which require tying. They all have velcro. I realise at some point this will require some lessons but for now I am skipping those.

However, last night my husband taught my son how to tie a tie. As Sebastian moves into the middle school this September his uniform includes a tie. And here in England there is no such thing as snap on ties. Believe me if that was an option I would have gone for it.

The first couple of goes were a complete catastrophe and I had visions of him strangling himself. But after a few frustrating attempts he started to get it. Then they even started looking right. then both ends were the same length and voila - my son can now tie a tie.

How strange it is that my son can tie a tie but not his shoes.

The Valerie Palmer Cup

At the end of every school year, the schools here in England have Speech Day. Year 2 is the first year that students attend so this was our first Speech Day. It is held the Sunday before the last week of school in the awe inspiring architecture of St George's Chapel in Windsor Castle.

Awards are given to the Year 8 Leavers and special awards are given to each class year for most improved and kindness. The are also special awards for achievement in dance, science, sports, etc.

I had spoken to Marc about this and evidence of some fairly deep childhood trauma emerged as my husband was refusing to attend what he considered to be the most boring event of the year. I did point out to Marc that it was always possible that Sebastian could receive an award and he wouldn't want to miss that. Marc said that if Sebastian was going to receive an award he would know it. I interrogated our son and he assured me he wasn't going to win an award.

I gave Marc a pass, took up the gauntlet and duly performed my parental duty of representing our family at the ceremony.

The Canon of St George's Chapel gave a sweet introduction and the headmaster of St George's, Roger Jones, gave a wonderful speech about the school's achievements in the past year as well as a reminder of the school's philosophy for the educational and social commitment to our children. It was reassuring to find those still roughly aligned with ours.

Then the long list of awards began and I applauded for those I didn't know and those I did. And then the most astonishing thing happened. My son's name was called.

Sebastian Clare-Panton is the proud recipient of the Valerie Palmer Cup. This is an award given to a student of St George's Pre-Prep department who has attended all 4 years of pre-prep and has made a positive contribution to the classroom ethos. They display a positive attitude and just get on with it no matter what comes their way.

I am so proud of him. I wanted to hoot and hollar. I had to remind myself that I was in a most sacred Chapel. And Marc missed the whole thing!

Olympic Gold

After sports day and the swimming galas I can now confirm that it is extraordinarily doubtful that either of my children will be winning any Olympic gold on behalf of either the UK or USA. Abigail ran every race with her tongue out. Seb waved at every one as he sauntered past oblivious to the fact that this was a race.

At the swimming gala Abigail was having fun playing whilst Sebastian had to use a float for every stroke other than the normal stroke where he finished after several minutes.....he climbed out of the water exhausted. Luckily, all of his classmates were chanting his name so I am hoping that he won't be permanently emotionally scarred as a result of his lack of physical prowess.

Click on the photo below to get a complete photo montage of the swimming galas.

Once Upon a Time

St George's School presented a series of traditional children's stories for the PrePrep Entertainment. Sebastian starred as the Gingerbread Man in a costume designed and made by Auntie Mary. He was a star! Click on the photo to see a slideshow of the entire photo collection.

StG Sports Day Extravanganza 2008

Click on the Photo below for a photographic montage of the glorious Sports Day 2008!

World Book Day

March 6 was World Book Day. The children dressed as their favourite book characters for school. Abigail went as Cinderella. Sebastian went as Horrid Henry. Sounds about right.

Home Schooling

I am a big fan of home schooling. Well, not for me and my children but for other extraordinarily brave souls. I am horrified at this article I just read. What do you think?