Short Story: Learning Experience

Short Story: Learning Experience

Hey there! Haven't you always wanted to be a fly on the wall?

I have brought Gabi for her Tuesday afternoon of Home Education activities at her playmate’s house. Ruth appears in the doorway with Little Lukey dribbling in her arms and Matthew fizzing with excitement behind her. Piling over the threshold, we find ourselves ankle deep in an orange quicksand of dried lentils, leading to the kitchen where Matthew has been getting creative. There is no room for our jackets on the overloaded coat-stand, so we abandon them to the lentils and head for the living room.

Scampering through the undergrowth of building blocks, stepping stone books and driftwood crayons, Matthew is anxious to demonstrate this week’s musical activity: Ruth has excelled herself with a timpani of saucepans and wooden spoons, Tupperware and rice maracas, paper and combs for the woodwind section, and a glockenspiel of spanners. Gabi displays a natural talent for percussion as she crashes the pots and squawks “Doe A Deer” above the cacophony of clattering, squealing and banging. Little Lukey scuttles across the room to join in. In his wake I realise that he needs a nappy change, however Ruth does not seem to have noticed yet. We attempt to conduct a sing-along of “Old MacDonald had a Farm.”

Clearly the young artists need some space to jam together while Ruth and I seek refuge in the kitchen with a cup of green tea. The accompanying biscuit is fresh from the oven, home-made by Matthew that morning – tough, salty and inedible. I spit it into the bin. We chuckle at our running gag about people who try to convince us to send the kids to nursery school for “socialisation” – “That’s the main reason for not sending them!” we chime in unison.

Little Lukey’s heartrending cries draw us back into the orchestra pit. His soft, ginger head is being bashed on the floor by his coarse, dark brother, as my blonde angel gapes incredulously. Ruth swoops on the baby and comforts him in an armchair. I soothe the situation further by reading “Jack and the Beanstalk” on the sofa, with a Munchkin snuggled either side of me. Matthew is as restless as Gabi is serene. I am glowing inwardly at her obvious superiority in everything: art, music, language… “Why is that baby sucking on your boob?” she suddenly asks Ruth. Admittedly Gabi’s social etiquette could use a little refinement.

At last Ruth takes the baby upstairs to change him, while I open a window and settle the others with organic milk and rice cakes. I busy myself with some damage limitation, trawling a horror smash of cars and trains into the storage boxes in the corner. Why is everything sticky, sticky, sticky?

“Look at that fly on the wall, Mummy!”

SWAT!