A page of flies
Eddie's away again this week so I am holding the fort and commuting between home, Thorngrove and Bedfont. It sort of works, but means working most evenings to catch-up on the time I lose travelling. I end up working in some pretty odd places, tonight the boys had tennis, so I parked myself on a bench with the MacBook to check my emails. At least I got to spend some time outside, and watch the boys. Win, win? Sort of.
Picking James up this afternoon I asked him, as always, how his day had gone.
"It's been a really good day. How many flies do you think are on this page?" He answered.
"56?"
"No."
"61?"
"No. 76!" With glee.
"How come you've drawn a page of flies?" I asked.
"I did it in English."
Of course he did. What else would you do in an English lesson, right?
Picking James up this afternoon I asked him, as always, how his day had gone.
"It's been a really good day. How many flies do you think are on this page?" He answered.
"56?"
"No."
"61?"
"No. 76!" With glee.
"How come you've drawn a page of flies?" I asked.
"I did it in English."
Of course he did. What else would you do in an English lesson, right?
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