THE end of the school year is here, and with it your child staggering home under the weight of all this crap:
A giant artwork
Comes in two varieties: first, the giant artwork they’ve made at school and they’re very proud of and they now, you realise with sinking heart, intend to display at home. Or, second and worse, the giant artwork you spent all Easter making returning all broken and ruined. Both will meet their destiny in the bin.
A year’s work
You’re happy to accept your child got 26 out of 27 in a maths test. You don’t require evidence. But the school doesn’t want that shit either so you’re getting a year’s worth of exercise books to feel guilty about not looking through.
Some other kid’s uniform
The sheer f**king cost of jumpers and blazers lost this year gnaws away at you, but the grab-bag of random shit your child brings home is no compensation. The blazer’s two sizes smaller, the jumper’s a cheap no-logo Sainsbury’s one, and what use is one shoe?
The school hamster
Your child is a naturally caring, nurturing person for the first two days of the school holidays, until they can’t be arsed and you have to take over. You also have to take said hamster for two weeks in Aberdeenshire, then explain the temporary, cyclical nature of life to your child on the way to the pet shop to get a like-for-like replacement.
You knew you should have waited before going on holiday. Now you’re sitting on a lovely Welsh beach with your itching head dripping in radioactive grease, considering shaving the whole family’s heads like a cult. But at least it’s not Covid.
Ending a school year of self-isolation and lockdown with a positive lateral flow test and ten days house arrest during a heatwave is perfect apart from how much you’ll f**king hate it. Send your kids to school in hazmat suits for the last week even if it results in abject humiliation on sports day.