When I picked Chubbs up from school yesterday afternoon, I was greeted with quite a sight. My 29-month old boy was so drenched that his hair clung to his forehead, he had perspiration dripping down his face and into his eyes, his face was bright red, and he was dancing around the classroom, singing. The most amusing part was, the rest of his classmates looked pristine. The girls had not one hair out of place, and the other boys didn't look any different from when they first started the day. I looked at the teacher, bewildered, and she simply said, "He was very happy in the playground." I burst out laughing and hugged my darling tight.
In his P.E. kit, after having cooled down in the car-ride home.
And today, his arms were streaked with multi-coloured paint, his tie and shirt were stained with paint, and he had paint stuck under his fingernails. I shook my head, and dragged my son home for a good scrubbing. When I took his shirt off in the bath, I realised that there was even paint on his chest and shoulders, under his shirt. Don't ask me how they got there.
