Busy, busy, washing, cleaning.
Nyaaar, nyaaar! Abandon the nest.
Busy, busy, sorting, throwing.
Nyaaar, nyaaar! Abandon the nest.
Busy, busy, ironing, packing.
Nyaaar, nyaaar! Abandon the nest.
~~~
Last child at home is 18 in a few short weeks. Since he finished his chef apprenticeship at the end of last year he's been planning to get a job down south about this time and until this time was going to do precisely nothing but play games on his console. After a false start and without too much ado, just a few phone calls, he has secured a job trial that starts this week coming. Suddenly he needs to leave. He panics. This is all too soon. He hasn't washed or ironed or sorted out anything. Mummy has gone ahead and negotiated with all the various accommodation parties and friends regarding his leaving and where he is staying and then son says late last night it is all too soon "I will phone to postpone the trial". Hmm. My kindness and diplomacy and reassurance that I have cancelled my entire busy day and will help to wash and dry and iron has hopefully calmed his nerves. I just hope it doesn't look too much like I want to get rid of him. I don't really, it is just that he is getting too big for our nest and he needs the glorious outside world and he just does my head in. I already love it when 22 year old daughter comes home, or telephones, and I so look forward to when both of the children will come home to visit their old mum and then go off again. Leaving me and the wonderful Mr Doris to find, for the first time, our own space and dimension.
