I am incensed. I am shocked to the core and I don’t think I will ever recover. And frankly the woman in question is old enough to be his mother – OK so she must have only been 15 at the time but it still hurts.
This does not bode well for the future does it?
The Boy has informed me this morning that he is in love with his teacher. This is the first time he has ever been in love with a woman and I don’t feel desperately comfortable with it.
I am not a jealous type, or at least I don’t think so. In fact I am quite happy for him to have a girlfriend. He’s been a kissing and a cuddling J for the best part of nine months now though I am informed they have been told at school: “Not kiss on the lips!” To which, when they tell me this, there follows paroxysms of giggles so that I can only surmise the order is totally ignored at every given opportunity.
Bearing this in mind I have said nothing to The Boy about preferring him to not love his teacher. I merely asked in a totally honest and upfront way why he loved her so much.
Him: Cos’ she’s so beautiful.
Right, the cheeky little siren…
Me: Any thing in particular that’s beautiful? Her eyes perhaps?
I’ll scratch them out
Him: She’s got lovely hair
I’ll give her hair…
Him: And she has a lovely smile
Me: It would be nice if it’s more than just looks you know, as we get older our looks tend to go away
There is silence from the back of the car.
Him: Mummy are you sad?
Me: No Darling. Why?
Him: ‘Cos your looks have gone…