Chalk and cheese

First day at new school.

Daughter (6 years old): up at 6.40am, bouncing into bedroom and onto our bed.

"Is it school today? Yippee!" (more bouncing)

"I wear my new trousers?" (lots of nodding) 

"New jumper?" (more nodding) 

"New shoes?" (nodding from me turns into a grunt that is supposed to be interpreted as Yes.)

"Yippee" (hands in air, more bouncing)

Little girl dresses rapidly and goes downstairs. She puts on her apron to ensure she doesn't dirty her new uniform during breakfast, eats and is ready by 7.45am.

School starts at 8.50am.

Son (8 years old): woken by bouncy sister, grunts and shouts of disapproval resound.

Reluctantly comes downstairs in new uniform. Looks great, but is upset that there are buttons on both the polo shirt and the trousers (he hates buttons).

Stands to eat breakfast (Weetabix falls on floor instead).

Retreats to watch TV until it is time to leave.

At the end of the day...

Daughter can't remember the name of a single person in her class, but does remember her teacher's name. I am already asked in for a meeting to discuss her, although the teacher was very, very positive and said she'd had a fantastic day with no problems.

Son is in a class with two other boys with the same name. And can name another three or four children. And had a great day learning about global warming and playing tennis (though not necessarily at the same time).

Day 2: as we leave, my son tells me he's left a note for me on my desk.

"OK. I'll read it when I get back - is that all right?"

"Yes."

Somewhat morosely he walks with us to school. (Daughter finds friend who lives a couple of doors down and skips away merrily.)

I get home to find Teddy on my desk with a note:

You can hug him