Dance class

Marianna had a twilight teacher training session to deliver today, a long drive away from Sheffield. So instead of taking Eben for his after-school swim, I met Frieda from pre-school and took her to her Wednesday dance class (Josh covered the swimming). This took the pressure off Jack a bit; he stayed with Simone and cooked tea.
I hadn't been to Frieda's dance session before, and this gave her an opportunity - which she relished - to show me the ropes. It's close to pre-school, so there were no complicated journeys. We arrived early enough to share a snack before the session, and then she disappeared through the glass door, in the care of an energetic young woman.
In places like these, I get fascinated by the tiny details: the doll forgotten on a bench, the array of water bottles inside the door. As I waited, the place gradually filled up with more people.  Mostly mums and children, with the mums generally looking more or less exhausted (whatever their clothes or demeanour suggested about their social background, and there was quite a variety). Several mums had babies in tow, while also dealing with an older sibling or two: "do you need a wee before you go in? Did you finish your snack?" etc.  There were a couple of dads, a granddad, no other grannies apart from me.  That period from around 4 p.m. to bedtime is one I remember well: everyone's tired and possibly hungry, tempers can be short, it's a challenge to get tea on the table before something blows up.
Anyway: I had the easy job today, getting through a few Greek lessons on the phone while waiting for Frieda. She enjoyed her session and we got back to their house to find Jack ready to serve up pasta and homemade pesto.
It got a bit less idyllic later.  I'd taken my laptop with me, so that I could log on for the weekly 6 p.m. Greek class there, rather than trying to dash home through the traffic. I managed an hour, and then the wails and the stomping about that I could hear through the door persuaded me to opt out early and lend a hand. Simone had reached peak tiredness; Jack was sounding close to the end of his tether (he had been up and about since 5 a.m., after a broken night). Everything quietened down soon after; Frieda and I watched Bluey for a bit until Jack managed to get Simone to sleep. I left him and Frieda heading for bed and drove home.
I don't know how long Marianna and Jack will be able to keep going, both freelancing; it's very tough. Routines aren't fully predictable, and refusing work feels risky, even when the practicalities are hard to manage. I guess we'll see...