Irreversible

Today I was spluttering and fuming about the boys being late out of school. Thomas thought he had practice (soccer or football, or futbol, depending on your country of origin), but he didn't. So he appeared after all the rest of the kids in his class, fully kitted out. He didn't get the message--either about the cancellation of practice or about being out promptly so we'd be back for Anna when she arrived home. The mini-bus won't drop her if we aren't there, of course, but I hate to make them wait, and hate even more the extra half hour she spends dropping off the rest of the kids if we aren't back in time.

 

Needless to say, I was feeling pretty stressed. Iain couldn't help but notice. 'I have something that will cheer you up, mummy,' he said in his most cheerful and pleased tone of voice. 'Look what's on my jumper.' On his school sweatshirt he had a round sticker that sparkled just a little, and read 'Headteacher's Award.' Inside, I am thinking, That's lovely, but we are still going to be late; aloud, I said (as you do), 'that's great, Iain!' in the most cheerful tone I could muster. 'How did you earn that?' I asked. 'For knowing what the word irreversible meant.'

 

Irreversible? This is a kid who draws and paints and makes really cool stuff out of Lego, who also still writes b and d and k backwards quite often, and who is just deciding that reading might actually be of some use (i.e. it might be fun). 'So,' I responded, 'what does it mean?' He said, 'it's like when you cook an egg; you can't ever get it back to the way it was before.'

 

For a moment, I forgot entirely about the fact that we were late. In the end, we turned onto our street with Anna's minibus just two cars behind us. And I will try to keep in mind that moments like those are part of the irreversible process of my children growing up--absolutely priceless.