It Is A Wise Father That Knows His Own Child

H and I have just been to our daughter’s school parents’ evening. Bizarrely, they serve drinks at this event, although I’m not sure why. Looks like a lethal combination to me – all those pushy parents, straining to contain their vicarious ambitions.
As always, I was one of the few parents drinking. It could be because the white wasn’t chilled very well, and the red has a tendency to turn newly-bleached teeth blue.
By the time we got to speak to our daughter’s long-suffering teacher, I had already downed two of the luke warm whites. Maybe I’m a bit of a pushover at these events, but since she didn’t raise any problems about our daughter’s progress, I was happy to thank her after our allotted ten minutes, and get up and go home (to a decent chilled white). I have always worked on the principle that if there’s any trouble to do with your kids, it will surely come and find you – you really don’t need to go looking for it.
Before we left the school hall, I was tempted to take a glass of wine up to the poor teacher who was now being grilled by a particularly alpha Dad, as his decorative wife looked on adoringly. Maybe a few swigs would have given the teacher the courage to suggest to him that his darling daughter had not inherited his mathematical ability. She could then have offered him the consolation that at least she hadn’t inherited his looks either.