Show and Tell

Bear came out of school this afternoon clutching the dreaded piece of paper. The one that says, ‘Your child has been chosen for Show and Tell this Friday.’ Whoopee! Not only does he have to choose something to talk about, we also have to remember to take whatever it is.

But then I remembered. Problem solved. It’s easy peasy this time because he recently received a letter from her Majesty the Queen. So I suggested it. ‘No mummy. I can’t take that because I have to talk about it.’ Ok, shouldn’t be too much of a problem. If I’d received a letter from the Queen, you wouldn’t be able to shut me up. ‘No mummy. The other children have to be able to ask questions.’

I could think of loads of questions to ask someone who’d received a letter from the Queen. Why did she write to you? Were you excited when you received it? What were you wearing? (Not particularly relevant but I always want to know.) Anyway, it turns out the other children can’t ask questions about a letter from the Queen.

‘So what sort of questions do they ask then?’ I said. ‘Things like, does it have a button to make it talk?’ So basically we’re limited to plastic or fur that may or may not talk. My question would more likely be, ‘Does it have a button to make it stop? No? We’re not getting one then.’

Anyway, it’s not my show and tell, so I’ll just stay out of it.

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About Ms Invisible

I live in the gaps between words, the pauses in music, the invisible space between objects in a landscape. I am a stay-at-home mum. My dog helps me to get enough exercise and my cat keeps me in my place. None of these things have any status in modern western society and yet they are mine and I wouldn't change any of them. Mr. Invisible is the Dennis to my Margaret, the Del to my Raquel, the Fitzwilliam to my Elizabeth, the David to my Elton, the lucky man who shares my life.

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