Songs For Your Mother Gordon MacMillan (good books for 7th graders .txt) 📖

allows her to have a full-time job and a nanny for two-year-old Dan, I could almost hear her thinking ‘Johnny and my children? No.’ She insists this was never the case and says it was more she never thought to ask before: ‘You didn’t look like the babysitting type.’ Now she does not hesitate.

TSP has been taking Luke on the school run in the morning, so I can write and earn some money, and I’ve been taking the afternoon shift. We are a perfectly balanced two-child, two single-family distributed unit.

This, of course, has not been without the odd teething issue on my part, like the time last Monday when I failed to set the alarm on my phone.

I overslept, as did Luke, and it was entirely my fault for keeping him up late. At the weekend I had bought a Nintendo Switch. I thought I was doing great. I’d discovered a gaming console you could play with your child. I went a bit overboard and allowed Luke to stay up an hour past his eight p.m. bedtime as we played Mario Kart together.

‘Daddy, Daddy!’ It was only when I heard this insistent voice in my room that I woke.

‘Morning buddy,’ I said.

‘There’s someone at the door,’ Luke said.

I checked my phone, holy crap it was 8:20. How had I slept through the buzzer? Pulling on my clothes, I found TSP and Georgia standing on my doorstep.

‘You overslept, didn’t you?’ TSP said, jumping straight in.

‘I want to say no… but that would be a lie. I am so sorry, this will not happen again,’ I said with a definitive shake of my arm designed to demonstrate my commitment to this statement.

TSP rolled her eyes.

‘Set an alarm. Better still, buy an actual alarm. You are now a parent. Luke needs to go to school. You do not want to be the parent whose child runs across the playground with their clothes hanging out and lumps of toothpaste stuck to their mouth.’

‘I will buy an alarm,’ I said.

‘Haven’t I warned you about the school gate? These women will post about you on Mumsnet without losing a minute’s sleep. You’re lucky I’m always early,’ TSP said.

With that, TSP marched past with Georgia in tow, who stopped to greet me before following her mother up the stairs and leaving me to close the door.

‘Morning, Johnny, you have to have an alarm for school,’ Georgia said, repeating her mother’s advice, which is not an uncommon occurrence. Being schooled by a five-year-old is a humiliation you do not want to repeat.

TSP quickly took charge of the situation, issued orders and helped get Luke out of the door.

To be fair, that has been my biggest disaster so far. I bought a new digital radio alarm clock, and promptly set it.

As I wait for Georgia and Luke to emerge, I am thinking about – despite the teething issues – how much I enjoy this moment. Maybe in a few years, I won’t feel this, only now it is another small addition to my life that Luke has brought that I take joy in.

The two of them are walking together across the playground. When Georgia sees me, she starts to run and then Luke is running behind her. The two of them have become fast friends and, like her mother, Georgia likes to lead. With her blonde hair, she is a mini-TSP. It happened quickly, and there really wasn’t any messing around. They were going to be friends. I wish I knew how small children make friends or how they do it so quickly. I don’t remember how it happened when I was a child. Maybe it is the fact that they have no time for adult games, don’t carry with them all that baggage and judgement. It is all more innocent and honest than adult friendships. At least it looks that way for the first few years.

The funny thing is that I’ve known Georgia ever since she was a baby. I’ve seen her grow, seen her toddle around, seen her fall over and scream the house down when she was going through her terrible twos. Now she is a super-confident five-year-old leading Luke around. As they come to a stop in front of me, I ask them how school was and if they learnt anything new.

‘I didn’t learn anything today,’ Georgia says.

When she says this, she sounds disappointed. It makes me wonder was I ever disappointed in that way as a child? I can’t imagine that I ever was.

‘Not a thing?’ I ask.

‘No, I liked it, but Luke didn’t.’

‘Why, what happened, Luke?’ I ask.

‘They laugh and say I talk funny,’ Luke says.

This has happened a few times since he started school, as the other school kids have got used to having a boy with an American accent in their class. He mostly seems to shrug it off, and we have talked about it. I’ve done my best to reassure him, and remind him that a Californian accent is much cooler than any North London tones.

‘You don’t talk funny,’ I say.

‘I like the way you talk,’ Georgia says. ‘And it’s just Albert, who is silly. I told him to shut up.’

‘Well,’ I start, meaning to suggest we don’t tell people to shut up, except before I can, Luke asks a question.

‘Why do I talk funny?’ Luke asks.

‘Remember we talked about it? It’s because you’re American, better still a Californian,’ I say.

‘But why am I American? I don’t like it,’ he says, throwing his arms out.

‘Well, it’s a long story, mostly to do with George the Third,’ I say.

‘Who was George?’ Luke asks.

‘Well, George was King of England a long time ago, and was mad,’ I say.

I wave my arms around and dance in a small circle, which makes them laugh, and Jessica, a mother who is standing close by, smiles. I must be doing something right.

‘He was known as Mad King George, and he lost America in a war that had something to do with tea and tax, and the