92. And the phone rang ... (1/3)

 It was back in May when we were all - happily - stuck at home. The house phone rang. Very surprisingly my son got up and picked up. Was this a sign? Did he know? He sounded so polite and sweet when he said:

'Yes, mum's here. ... Yes, I'll get her for you ... Mum! ... Someone on the phone for you!'

I am taking my time. I am coming down the stairs like Queen Victoria when she heard she had just become Queen. One step at a time, really slowly, no rushing. Again I must have sensed something.

'Yes, speaking. ... Yes, I am his mother.' I reply, proudly enough although I am thinking, Oh Lord, is this trouble? Could my son get into trouble even through e-teaching or whatever they call it? A virtual trouble-maker? An online nuisance?

I put these silly ideas quickly out of my mind and try to listen to the person calling me. But the more I pay attention the less I understand! I haven't got a clue! What is this guy going on about? A team? A school? A team within the school? Or a team and then a school? But then where's the link? And is this in reply to an application form I filled in or just something else altogether? I just stand there with the receiver stuck to my ear. My son looks at me with a look that says 'pay attention, mum' but I am paying attention so I get annoyed at him and I give him the angry mother look. He does not react which makes me really awkward. Why is he not behaving normally?

'Are you ok with that?'

Oh dearie me! That weird man is still at the other end of the line.

'Yes, of course! That's perfectly ok with us.' I reply, finding this a suitable reply.

'He will have to be a boarder, you realise that?'

'A boarder? No! ... Yes! .. Yes! Of course! A boarder!'

Now I am paying attention! A boarder! My son! Yes, I'm all for it. See if they like it when you cannot tell the bed from the desk because he does what passes for homework in bed and sits at his desks folded in his duvet. A boarder! Great! I'll be able to clean his bedroom. Hurray!

'Yes, that's fine.' I insist, just in case he was going to suggest somewhere else, closer to home. And then it gets even better.

'He will have to be a week-end boarder. We sometimes go quite far for matches, you know.'

'Yes, far away sounds good.' I realise I must sound like an idiot on top of a bad mother. 

I am definitely paying attention though. Deep down I want to thank that man but I do not want to sound like the worst mother on earth so I am trying to think about Queen Victoria. I mean, she was a good mum yet she happily scattered her brood all over Europe. 

'Do you have any questions?'

'No. That's fine. Thank you.'

I do not have any questions! Silly mother! The man must have sensed it as he tells me to write down my questions and call him back. Is this for real? I am going to have to think up some sensible questions, that reasonable mothers ask. And write them down and call him back! 

My son is looking at me. I am staring back. I am trying to convey a 'watch your step message' and he is looking rather subdued (a first) and so mama-in-charge is enjoying this and playing on it. 

I truly want to jump up and down with joy and scream. And hug that big man at the end of the line. Queen Victoria is long gone. My son reads me, he says.

'You're smiling! ... I'm in, aren't I?'

'Yes, you're in! Well done!' Again I am trying to look self-assured and on top of it but I have not got a clue about the 'in' bit. He is in what? Where? What for? But who cares? He seems to know and he is happy. 

And so am I.