Ah, that explains it

I love my children, truly I do, despite offering to send them to live with other bloggers regularly, clearly I only do that so I can share their wonderfullness with the world.

Ahem.

I have been a Mummy for a very long time and I think I have a fair opinion of my offspring (I did type fruit of my loins but I had to delete it, it grossed even me out) I am not one of the showy offy type mummies, I do not regale others of my childs academic achievements overly much, I don't make you listen to their musical offerings or insist you peruse their artistic endeavours. I am much more likely to share their WTF moments. I am most definitely not the parent who thinks their child is the new Messiah, I am fairly realistic of their good and bad points.

Last night was parents evening at Beautiful Baby Daughter's school, this is the same school I used to teach at, so when they are talking to me, I know exactly what they are trying to say, there is no point in putting high heels and lipstick on it, I get told straight. This is not a big worry really as BBD has not inherited the "can't be arsed" gene, she has always been the sort that pushes herself and gets involved in everything, she's not naughty and she goes every day so parents evening throws up few surprises usually.

Her form tutor went through her interim report, subject by subject, explained her FFT predicted grades and then offered points for improvement.

For those of you who know the BBD, swallow anything you have in your mouth, do not put anything back in until you've finished reading this post, I do not want to be sent the bill for laptop repairs because you've spat all over your computer, I am skint and I've several weans and a Hot Boy to take to Florida, more specifically Harry Potter land at Easter. Consider yourself warned.

BBD's form tutor feels that the only thing that could be improved is if she spoke more in form, contibuted and shared her opinions more. Yep, that's right, my child, the one who talks at me till my ears bleed, the one who barristers practice their debating skills with, the one we call Chatty Annie or less kindly, Little Miss Last Word.

After I'd made a holy show of myself by laughing, I explained that she's only been quiet for about 15 minutes of her 15 years, he looked totally perplexed, apparently she never says a word, he didn't realise she was Scottish because he'd never heard her say more than "here" when he does the register.

And the reason for this, dear readers, explained with uncharacteristic succinctness by BBD

" For goodness sake Mummy, of course I don't say anything, I'm not awake yet in form time"