Mr Bee and I went out dancing last night. When we got home, we found notes from our daughters.
Some extracts:
I hope you enjoyed your dance, and that you managed to talk to other people at least a bit.
Clearly our daughter understands our curmudgeonly introverted natures all too well. For the record, we *did* talk to other people there. And we even danced.
We are fine (no fights).
A fairly minimal standard of being fine…
I hope you had a good time too (I also hope Mum’s feed aren’t too hurt because of Dad’s footwork.
Also for the record, my feet were just fine, and Mr Bee didn’t tread on them at all.
Cheeky chappies! :-)
That’s funny. I attach notes from a phone conversation with Master Just Seven, also last night.
Hullo Grandma.
Hullo. How are you?
I’m good.
What are you doing?
I rang to tell you I’m just walking around. ????
Made conversation and was running out of questions to ask. He is a very directed little boy and I was wondering where all this was going.
Can you come to grandparents’ day?
I think so. Can you tell me more?
It’s at school. Mum can’t come, only you. She’s my mum, she’s not a grandparent. (Snorts and laughter in background)
What day?
A Monday.
(Muttering in back ground: August 6th)
You just have to come. You’re my grandma.
What sort of dancing do you do?