Jamie got his school report on Friday, and we're all very pleased. Negotiations continue on what his reward might or might not be.
Almost as notable was the news he delivered about next term when he enters Year 2.
Once again, the classes are being mixed up so he'll have many different faces around him.
Of greater note was that his teacher will be brand new to the school.
We were talking about this over the Sunday roast and Jamie wasn't initially enthused. So I shared a ditty from my Macosquin Primary School days. (I'm the big girl pictured above dressed as a goalkeeper).
"I had a new headmaster, Mr Murdock, who became my favourite teacher," I explained.
(He replaced Mr Thompson, of whom I was never a fan on the grounds that he looked like JR Ewing and polished his head).
"Oh really, Jamie replied. "Why?"
"Well," I continued, "he treated me like a big boy." (Despite my big girl look, which was kind of ironic when you think about it).
"Was he old?" Jamie further enquired.
"No, he was quite young," I recalled.
"Yes, but Daddy. Is he dead yet?"
This was not something I had considered - I do hope not - but, given that I haven't seen Mr Murdock for 31 years, I couldn't answer.
What I did instead was to fill my wine glass right to the brim and take a very large gulp.
