On Monday I sent The Beast off on a two night residential at Rand Farm Park with school. I love Rand, and he was going through an especially trying phrase when the letter came out, so I had no worries about booking him in – not that not going was an option to him. However, as the trip got closer I couldn’t help but worry a little bit.
That probably surprises you, I mean, we all know I’m not opposed to “binning them off” as I call it to the outlaws or my mum as and when I can. Mr Aimee and I have even been known to go away for a sneaky few nights, longer than the two nights he was going to the farm for, but that’s not the same. Grandparents are one thing, I know where he’s sleeping, as does he, this was a whole different ball game.
I packed his case, rolling his outfits into days (which by the way, he totally ignored and mixed and matched as he saw fit according to the photos), included a laundry bag (unused), and ran him through his toiletries and generally, as much as I tried not to worry I couldn’t help thinking….Would he go to sleep? (he did apparently) Would he be brave and ask to go for a poo? (he didn’t, as soon as we got home he spent 35 minutes on the toilet and informed me he could hold it for 17 sleeps if he wanted to.) Would he miss me (“a little bit”) Would he be happy? (Seems like he was).
So on Monday morning, I took photos of my suddenly ridiculously grown up looking boy, and sent him on his way, and I was totally cool. (Actually, I surprisingly was).
The house was quiet, the Chunky was lovely but missed his brother in equal measures, and I spent most of my time hitting refresh on the twitter account and glaring at my phone waiting for a text.
Picking him up was amazing, the hugs and the constant happy chatter almost made it worth it. But anyway, this isn’t about what I think, this is about what they think…
P.S. It only took about half an hour for the boys to start fighting and me to wonder if Rand do weekly boarding…