WHERE in the world do all the missing sports socks go?
Why are you already running short of the kids'-preferred, low-cut variety?
It's only Week 3 of Term 1! And the first week wasn't even a full one.
Why do plastic containers never come home in the same numbers you send them out in?
Label-smabel. You can plaster your family name all over them; it doesn't mean they will make it out of your kids' tub or locker before June.
The lack of plastic containers mean you will need to take your own lunch to work in either an eggcup-sized vessel with a screw-top lid or a tub so large you can't even shut the door on the staff fridge.
Why do plastic containers never come home in the same numbers you send them out in? The lack of plastic containers mean you will need to take your own lunch to work in either an eggcup-sized vessel with a screw-top lid or a tub so large you can't even shut the door on the staff fridge.
Granted these are First World problems but never underestimate how widespread these issues are for parents of school-aged children.
A missing sports sock or lack of plastic containers can cruel your morning before you know it.
Third only to conversations about sports socks and plastic containers dominating our mornings, afternoons and evenings is homework.
Have you done your homework?
Homework policy varies widely between schools and year levels from no homework at all to simply stacks of it.
Your child will be sitting somewhere in that range - despite what they say!
I have very little memory of homework in primary school but remember tonnes of it in high school. Mr Nancarrow set the bar high, but we all aced 3U Modern History!
MORE MATERIAL GIRL:
During Grade 5 we had to keep a food journal for a week; breakfast, lunch and dinner.
As a born and bred foodie, this was an excellent assignment. To this day, I never forget a good meal. I never forget a bad one, either. I just never forget a meal.
My sister-in-law recalls people's weddings by the shoes people wear to them; I remember the entree. Main. And dessert.
"No, I don't remember the bridesmaid's dazzling Jimmy Choo shoes at all," I confess to her.
"But I will never forget that spicy beef appetizer in a betel leaf or the creme brulee from that Sydney wedding 20 years ago."
I had meticulously listed every morsel of food and drop of drink I had for a week in my Grade 5 food journal.
On relaying it back to my mum, she was not entirely thrilled with the menu.
It must have been football season, which would have explained the bakery sausage rolls on both Thursday and Saturday. Just add Coconut Roughs, Redskins and salt and vinegar chips into the Saturday afternoon mix and you know you're in early 1980s country football heartland. My mum was even less impressed with all of the Lemonade and Cottee's cordial on the record.
Then began a kind of homework-food swap game.
"Couldn't you swap one of those sausage rolls for a homemade pastie and steamed vegetables?" she'd suggested.
"At least get rid of the Lemonade from Wednesday night's list."
Last week my daughter arrived home from school with her first Physical Education assignment for the year. It was a food journal. The record started immediately.
Having celebrated her paternal grandmother's 70th birthday on the weekend before, Monday's lunch box was like a smorgasbord of sweets. She'd had cheesecake for recess and chocolate fudge cake for afternoon tea. She could have had cupcakes for lunch for all I know as she packed her own lunch box.
It was my Cottee's Cordial project all over again. Epic fail.
When she asked to have KFC for dinner mid-week. I said: "I have four words for you: No way, food journal!"
Finally, I found a stash of short sports socks at the end of the beds when I was changing the sheets.
See, I'm always happy to share my homework with you!