Oh my. It is just so hot here in Sydney this week. Even the labradoodle is frazzled. Nothing can budge him from the cool kitchen floor. Even the garage door opening, which can be a signal the Workaholic is home, can move him. Luckily we live on the coast and are being spared the worst temperatures. Give a thought to Adelaide which is supposed to reach a record high of 46C this afternoon and the players in the Australian Open in Melbourne where it is currently 42.1C. Apparently Australia is the hottest place on earth today!
We had a 46C day last February if I remember rightly. The Workaholic was somewhere tropical (working of course and informed me it was 32C and almost 100% humidity there). I am not sure which is worse, hopping into bed sheets that feel like they have just come out of the washing machine, or twins happy to spend the afternoon in Mummy’s air conditioned bedroom, until they realised that Peppa Pig was only recorded on the TV downstairs.
I made sure they were extremely slip, slop, slapped this morning before we headed off to kindergarten. On our arrival at the gates we were met with the most heart wrenching site. A little boy wanted his mum and was hanging onto the gate, howling his head off and crying for his mummy. One of the staff was trying to coax him off the gate and divert his attention but to no avail. I had a rush of memories back to my first few days of school when I was five. I don’t think I was as loud but I surely was just as upset. I remember sitting beside the teacher at break times because I was terrified of the large open space that was the playground (strange from a child that grew up on a farm). I cried endless tears all over the sandwiches and snacks and was in a state of great anxiety. Since I have had children these memories haunt me more often than usual. I worry that my children will feel anxious, stressed or heaven forbid be bullied (that is a topic for another day). So this little boys distress just about broke my heart. Little Miss stopped to offer her support but that didn’t help. As I left I saw a concerned Little Master (LM) about to visit the crying boy and teacher who were in the next room. Another teacher advised LM that the other little boy would be fine but I am not sure LM was convinced as he was still looking glum about the situation as I closed the gate.
On my way back to the car I marvelled at how kind and caring my two are and I hoped that now the little boy was happily playing racing cars with LM. They may only be “almost three” but I was very proud of them today. I wondered if it was because they were twins that they showed such a concern. Was it because I have spent so much time sounding like a stuck record while trying to get them to show empathy for one another. Sharing has been hard for them to grasp and sometimes the fishwife in me appears as I try to break up the fights. But they are very fond of each other and when one is upset the other one is pretty quick to offer a cuddle. I hope that we can continue to nurture these altruistic abilities that they seem to have adopted so early on. And I also hope that the mummy of the little crying boy can be assured by the staff that he did have a good day and that he is happy going again next week.