The Dreaded Parents Evening

As you'd expect when one of the children starts school, there are a lot of new things, firsts, to contend with.


There are new friends, new classes, new routines, and then there is one that I feel most parents dread- parents evening.



I know my parent's dreaded mine and my sisters (mine mostly, which is surprising as I was such a nerd that only my PE teacher had a bad word for me), and I was no different. It seems I wasn't alone, as many of the other playground Mum's at BH school said the same.


So, with trepidation I went on Tuesday to see Mini's teacher, Mrs C. Elder had wanted to come too, but we couldn't get anyone to stay in with Littlest, and rather than drag us all up to school, I elected to go.


Whilst I don't want you to have the false impression that I worry that Mini is the anti-Christ at school, just recently she has changed in the way she behaves. She's never been perfect, and can throw a strop with the best of them, but I've joked on Twitter that perhaps once children start school, all the children pool their collective wisdom on being naughty as possible and trade hints and tips. So, suddenly my daughter sneers at every possible opportunity- when told off, when she's told to eat her tea, when its bedtime. Even when I have walked into the town with her of a weekend, I wondered why I was receiving strange looks from passers by, then realised it was because my previously mostly angelic daughter was making the most appalling faces at people as they walked by.


She has also discovered the joy (only felt by naughty 4 year olds) of remarking on strangers looks or weight. Which led to my face turning red in the opticians when she saw a man who she decided to shout, top of her lungs, to, to tell him he was immensely ugly. A definite moment filed under "ground, swallow me up now".


The prospect of Parents Evening was not something I looked forward to.


Mrs C sat me down (why do they not find suitable chairs? My chair had a seat the size of a thimble, which anyone who has met me will confirm is not going to mean comfort in my non-thimble sized bottom), and presented me with a home made book with Mini's picture on the front. She then invited me to read through it.


I immediately began to think that, such were my daughter's crimes they'd opened a book on her to remember them all.


However, it turned out to be a photographic record of some of her better activities in the month since she started school, with little anontations beside each.


Feeling somewhat better, Mrs C then told me that Mini is a lovely child, that perhaps her fine motor skills need development (instant guilt as we've banned play-doh due to the last time they played with it), but that her number skills are excellent.


Then came the but.


Apparently, Mini could challenge Mariah Carey in diva strops.


Not really a surprise to me- she is the pampered Princess in our house, and does like to get her own way. Mrs C said that when she started  at the school, Mini had screamed and cried so bad they thought that she had really hurt herself. 


Not so- a boy had pinched the toy she happened to have been playing with. Mrs C said that, when she had run over, in fear of what had happened, Mini had pointed and stamped her feet. Opps.


Mrs C was polite, and tried to make excuses that perhaps it was frustration, or a new school so she didn't know her classmates names. Bless Mrs C is all I can say.


Now it falls to us to, as the teacher called it "ask Mini to use her words", rather than being an out and out hissy fitting nutcase.


Should be fun.


If I survive, I'll keep you updated!