And today (being a teacher training day) has been spent completely doing other things until about, ooh, two hours ago.
Then suddenly we HAVE to find a protractor (because they're so useful in adult life aren't they?) and I find myself pleading with my son to fill in just some of the DAILY diary he was set as holiday homework.
Holiday homework! Cuh! We naturally ditched the very notion six weeks ago, but suddenly bottled out at the last minute.
What if the teacher is, like, really cross?
Do I, in truth, give a monkeys? No! Holiday homework! Arse!
I decided a compromise was best. He filled in the more interesting days, the time spent actually doing stuff because of course doing stuff is what they want to hear all about, rather than just hanging out, loafing around, chillin'...so we left the rest blank.
It made me realise there has been quite a lot going on, and to be frank, not nearly enough of the monotony I remember in the 70s. Ah, the 70s. When you weren't expected to be multi-tasking until adulthood, when overstimulation generally involved illicit drugs, and when you were expected to be bored in the holidays and put up with it until the two weeks at the seaside. No playstation. No channel-hopping. Just space hopping and, and...the sound of lawnmowers?
And as for holiday homework. There never was such a thing. Probably because it was the 70s, when people went on strike and belonged to unions and had rights and actually stuck up for themselves. They probably didn't dare even suggest holiday homework. Then everything changed. I blame Margaret Thatcher.
God if it's like this now, how the crap am I going to cope when he's suddenly getting ready for secondary school and actually knows what a protractor is for... except I still don't????? Enough. Bed.