Information Hold-outs

You’d think between three kids in the same class I’d be able to get some information out of them about their day.

It was the twin’s first school visit sans parents and I was picking up their friend as well.

Unfortunately that was the day of the weather bomb and ensconcing three kids in as many jackets and under umbrellas was no easy task. The one who was without an umbrella, due to it blowing inside out and therefore being rendered useless, had already wandered off into the elements while I helped one who’d just put his jacket on inside out and his bag, back to front. 

We needn’t have bothered. By the time we reached the car we were soaked. Just the simple task of depositing each child into their seat and figuring out what to do with three erect umbrellas gained a saturating.

Then at the other end, trying in vain to remind them to take off their soaked jackets and shoes fell on deaf ears. I followed a trail of water up the stairs to their room where everyone was already excitedly playing trains.

“Is someone going to tell me about their day?” I asked for the umpteenth time.

“Nah, we’ll tell you about it at dinner time,” came the reply.

I switched tactics: “Ok, did Jai get any growlings today?” I asked his sister who is always keen to nark.

But even this didn’t get a response. They were so excited about their playdate, their morning didn’t feature.

Mister Seven has been a master of this mute void of information for some time but I had expected the younger ones – especially a girl – to be more forthcoming.

Hence the reason I put my name down to mother help one morning a week. To be a fly on the wall is the only way I’ll gain insight into their school days.

I made another attempt at afternoon tea time when the three of them were perched up at the bar.

“Yes, Jai got a big growling for being too loud again,” shouted Miss Four before proceeding to fill me in on all the naughty antics of each kid that had occurred that day.

“Oh and I learnt how to write ‘I like being in room 10’,” Master Four recalled.

Finally I was getting somewhere.

“Would you like to show me how?” I asked.

But that was as much as I was going to get as my question was drowned out by the burping (and subsequent giggling) competition now taking place.

Later at the dinner table I got another snippet when Miss Four formed the shape of a ‘T’ to notify me she needed to be excused to the toilet. This was closely followed by her siblings making T-shapes with their hands, just for the novelty of it.

As a result, I soon found myself dining alone and none the wiser about their day.