A lunch date

The highlight of my day was having lunch with Harry, something they used to do every year when Charlotte was at the school but it’s been the first time I’ve had the chance with H.  I don’t know if they’ve thought of tying these things in with the school’s fundraising efforts, but they should as they are deeply sweet and guaranteed to melt even the most hardened old cynic. 
From the moment I sneaked a glimpse of him beavering away in the classroom completely unselfconsciously, to when he came out and literally skipped towards me (in a manly way, obviously), those heartstrings started twanging away.

There was a moment of panic in his eyes when the staff explained the variation upon the usual lunchtime queuing rules, then he was back to his element, leading me around explaining how things were done.  And of course steadfastly refusing to try any part of school dinners, that went without saying. The only fly in the ointment was being sat on a table with a family where the dad clearly thought that we required entertaining, a shtick that his daughters just going to love ten years from now.  But eventually he got the message (or perhaps his wife just kicked him very hard) and he calmed down. 

Then it was out onto the field, which was amazingly bathed in sunshine for the first time in more weeks than I want to think about.  And half an hour ensured of just priceless observing of my son in his element, dashing around and bouncing off everyone, with no particular structure to his play.  Brilliantly comical conversations with his friends, like little old people with their turn of phrases, and children randomly taking you into their wry confidences.  A different kind of lunchtime to my ones with Charlotte, who very much wanted you to herself and which were filled with chat and cuddles, an intensely lovely experience.  Harry is much more about everyone joining in, with a boundless puppyish enthusiasm.  It’s very infectious, I’d totally forgotten I was a middle-aged mum by the end.  God, I love that boy.