frolic

At the end-of-primary-school celebration F’s teacher spoke about each child in turn, then handed them a farewell gift and shook hands with them or hugged them. She acknowledged individual children not only for excelling at music, sport, or maths, but also for their personal qualities such as inclusivity, sensitivity, a strong sense of self, quirky sense of humour, courage, generosity.

In summing up F she said he was “ a lovely young man”. It’s funny but now I can hardly recall what else she said - creative, friendly etc. What sticks in my mind is “young man”.

Looking at all the children that night - it was a big performance/party - I saw how they were on the threshold between childhood and adulthood. They will be kids for quite a while of course - yet in the last year most of them have changed and you get a glimpse of the sort of grown-ups they will become.

After every one had sung and danced and played music (F played ‘The Baby Elephant Walk’ on his clarinet)  and eaten and said kind words about eachother, we went home with full hearts. F said in the car on the way home “Thanks for sending me to such a great school”  This from he who has in recent months been protesting about going to school at all.

I woke up the next morning from a dream: I lost F in a big amusment park  like Disneyland where we went in Paris in July. I sort of wandered off and when I came back there was a huge crowd and I couldn’t find him.  I woke up in tears.

I realised that in the dream he was a small child, maybe 4 or 5. He was wearing a burnt orange polar fleece top that he loved when he was small, a hand-me-down from Ollie. 

I thought about how we all carry around inside of ourselves the little children who we once were, and how it is important not to abandon them. And I also reflected that that my little son IS indeed gone, has now grown into the “young man”.

I got out of bed. It was the final this-is-it, very last day of school and F’s teacher had very sensibly decided to spend the entire day at the local swimming pool. I got ringed-in rather reluctantly to be one of the parent helpers. I had a million things to do at home - like laundry and washing up and packing to go away. But once I got there I remembered how pleasant it is to sit around under the shady palm trees on the grass, or at a picnic table while the kids frolic happily in the pool. It was miraculously blue and sunny after all the rain.

A couple of other parents were there to help and a couple of others dropped by and we all sat on a blanket on the ground and chatted and watched the kids having a fabulous time on the ‘Inflatable’.  

One of the parents brought her two small children aged three and five. I played with them - chasie, tiggie, horsie, hidey, run-around-the-palmtree-giggling-and -squealing until you’re out of breath. It was a moment of innocent delight. I’d forgotten about that simple fun. Forgotten about that part of me that wants nothing more than to run around trees giggling with children. It was a good day.