End of Christmas term

It's the end of term tomorrow. Kieron would have presents for his teacher and her assistant hidden in his backpack, to hand over at the right time. This usually means when no-one else is looking because as he became an awesome 10 year old it was a serious reduction in street cred to give teachers presents.

Leftovers from the class Christmas party would be consumed with glee by Kieron and his class mates and the last few cards would be given and received. These would be bluetacked up in the kitchen with the rest of the school cards: a pictorial decoration for Christmas. 

Sometimes the children were allowed to wear 'home' clothes on the last day of term and this would involve a prolonged debate the night before on what to wear. The short sleeved t shirts would be tried then discarded. Jeans or trackies?? Decisions, decisions. Mum's common sense would generally prevail and Kieron would settle for jeans, a football shirt and a hoodie. At the last minute trainers would be cleaned and hair gelled if it was long enough. Last Christmas Kieron had a grade 4, so no gel. 

When Kieron was younger, I would wait at the school gate and try to ignore the mysterious parcel poking out of his backpack. To preserve the surprise element, I'd refrain from rummaging around looking for end of term letters, knowing that there was also a handmade card or 2 lurking in the sticky, crumb laden depths. Kieron would have Christmas tree chocolate from school which was hastily crammed in his mouth before offering me a sticky hand to hold to get across the road.

A couple of years age he was trusted to cross over with a lollipop lady and walk to my car which was always in the same place. I could see him walking down the road juggling backpack, bookbag, p.e. kit and chocolate and would go to help him. Last Christmas, Kieron was deemed old enough and sensible enough to walk home: after all, he was off to senior school before long and it was time to gain some independence.

He'd arrive home, dragging his stuff, chocolatey mouthed and grinning. Yayyyyy no school. The lovingly made cards and Christmas pictures would appear from his backpack and be given pride of place.

They still have pride of place, but there are no chocolatey kisses to go with them.