Daisy: (sobbing at the tea-table because I said she had to stay at the table until everyone had finished eating) You’re supposed to talk when I’m crying! You’re supposed to say “You’re terribly tired, aren’t you?”!

… Kev’s more or less better, now. I think his throat’s still a bit scratchy, but he’s back at work, and managing not to collapse in a heap of patheticness at the end of the day, which is a bonus.

HiddenActually, considering it’s May, there still seems to be quite a lot in the way of coughs and colds flying around. Both of my kids have a slightly chesty-sounding cough, which isn’t debilitating them, but is slowing them down a little. And given that the first time Daisy got croup, we’d never heard of anyone having it, outside of Ann of Green Gables, the number of croupy babies and children in our church is starting to become ridiculous. We’re considering starting a support group. Well, not really, but it does seem a bit odd. We have six babies under a year old, and three of them are susceptible to it, which seems a bit high.

HiddenCoughs and colds aside, Daisy and Henry are doing nicely. Henry is trying to talk more, which is lovely. He’ll make attempts at Daddy, Mummy, Daisy and Cat, and he’s signing a little too - bed and drink, particularly. He’s only ten months, so he’s not doing any of it reliably, but you can see he’s starting to get the idea, which is lovely.

Daisy has very few problems communicating. I can remember when she was Henry’s age, being quite excited, and a little impatient, for the day when she could tell me what was in her head. Now, when I have to try and seriously consider questions like, “Mummy, what do you think if me and you and Daddy and Grandmum and Henry were hung on the washing line?” I’m wondering if I was happier when I didn’t know.

HiddenDaisy’s quite a sensitive little flower, in lots of ways. She worries about things. She’s recently joined Tumble Tots, but has so far refused to tolerate me waiting in the other room for her. The thing is, a different mother would put their foot down, but I really can’t see the point. There is no merit, to me, in forcing her to a level of independence that she doesn’t want. When she’s ready, she’ll do it, and in the mean time, I can wait in the corner of the room. She’s only three. It’s not as if I’m planning to make her go to school by herself!

At least one of my friends has been heard to marvel at how I cope with having Daisy all day, every day, when everyone else’s kids are in playgroup or nursery for part of the time. I don’t really see it as coping - I cope with Daisy because I HAVE Daisy. I love her, and even when that doesn’t seem to help me LIKE her very much (and you all have those days, don’t pretend you don’t), I still want her where she feels safe and secure, and capable of behaving like a little madam if she needs to!

HiddenAs it happens, my whole relationship with Daisy has improved markedly, since I realised that I was chronically dehydrated. Not acutely, but chronically, in the sense of not drinking nearly enough, for days and weeks on end. Kevin brought me a glass of cordial with my tea, one night, and I looked at it, and thought, “That’s my first drink today.” And really, that’s not good enough. No coffee, no cold drinks, nothing since I poured milk on my cornflakes at 8am. So I started making a concerted effort to drink more, and almost immediately, I found I was less tired, sluggish, bad-tempered, and overwhelmed by everything. I could get things done! And I didn’t spend my whole day snapping at my poor, innocent three-year-old.

I knew water was important, and I knew I didn’t drink enough, but I was astonished at the difference it made. I thought I just WAS that person. It’s quite a relief to discover that I’m not!

Yet, again, today, I have found myself trying to grapple with the biggest challenge of home educating a three-year-old - persuading her that she doesn’t want to go to school.

School is endemic in our culture. Everyone goes. Everyone assumes that Daisy will go. CBeebies devotes hours per week in attempting to brainwash her into wanting to go. No matter how hard I try, the rest of the world is making school sound so utterly appealing, that I’m having some difficulty in getting her to accept being home educated.

Don’t get me wrong - she’s three. She doesn’t have anything like enough information to make an informed choice, and I’m the parent; I’m the one who gets to make the choice, and I have no problem with it being a unilateral decision, particularly in the early years. But it would certainly make my life easier if the whole of modern culture wasn’t preoccupied with trying to make school seem fun.

Most of the children who GO to school, of course, would describe it at “boring”, and not fun at all, but since it is seen as an inevitability, there’s actually a fairly robust conspiracy to keep that information away from three and four year olds. Adding to the confusion is Daisy’s own ideas of what school is like, and what home education would be like; a few times, she’s expressed an unwillingness to have a “home-school” because she perceives that it will necessitate replacing our furniture with school-type furniture, and then where will we sleep, and sit to watch the telly? She doesn’t comprehend, because she’s three, that the purpose of school is concerned with education*, and it’s the education part that we’re interested in addressing at home, and no matter how carefully I try to explain and reassure, I’m fairly confident that her head is full of bizarre and confused assumptions about what it all means. For example, I imagine that any convincing attempt at school-at-home will have to include the taking of a register, in order to be accepted at authentic. Still, that shouldn’t take long: “Daisy?”, “Here.” All done.

Maybe I need to start asking her to think about WHY people go to school, as a route to understanding the concept of education, as distinct from school attendance.

* Actually, whether the purpose of school is education, is wide open to debate, and worthy of it’s own post. Education is the bit of school we’re concerned with, however.