Who would...

disappoint this wonderful boy, time and time again?

make suggestions and statements that he might take as an absolute, a promise, that then never turn out to be real or true?

miss out on his daily tales of school, his obvious pride in his achievements, his excitement at what the next few months will bring?

let life get in the way of even just a few precious moments, a hug, a smile?

Stuck for a blip, I resort to my angel. Shortly after the disappointment of a text message that was not who he had hoped upon hope it would be. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. Disappointment at least is based upon a love that is still there. I hope that it might be returned and reciprocated in actions at some point and that it doesn't become too late.

I have to stand by and watch, unspeaking, because there are some things that it would just not be right for me to pass comment about. Private thoughts differ so much from public voice.

Thats been the story of my day. The dialogue in my head saying something completely different from the voice that eminates from my mouth.

Wanting to say that being pernickity for the sake of it is just a waste of precious time.
Wanting to tell a certain person exactly what I want to say when they refer to me in a completely unsavoury manner.
Wanting to set the record straight about what is civil and acceptable.
Wanting to ask the waitress why we can't sit on one particular side of the pub restaurant, to make her say what is unspoken - you have a child, therefore you are a pariah in these circles.

Instead, I kept my mouth partially shut with pernickity pants (said enough to ensure that it was clear that there was no issue with my part of the deal!).

I resisted the urge to correct the unsavoury comment with a smart alec remark that might have resulted in disciplinary procedures.

I have walked away from challenges about civility - I like my face the way it is.

I didn't leave a tip for the snippy waitress - her service was poor and that was because I wouldn't allow her to seat us in the children's area of the restaurant. On principle. He's not 5, he knows how to sit still, he is polite, calm and well behaved and probably exercises more self control than some of the adults who ate there tonight. So, no 15% for you snotty!

Maybe I am growing up. Maybe, I just can't be bothered!