Neither was football, but that's another post.
A perfectly horrible day, kicked off by the younger hooligan crying quietly int his waffles as he comtemplated what to write in his teacher's end-of-the-year thank you card. He loves his teacher, loves school and hates goodbyes. Every year we go through this, but usually it doesn't happen until the last bell rings. This teacher is particularly spectacular.
Meanwhile, upstairs in the lair of the 12 year old, the gecko was missing.
I have trouble relating to the affection my elder son feels for his gecko. But there it is. And the social studies final was set to commence in a mere hour. How was he ever going to remember details of ancient chinese dynasties when the lizard was not in her proper place.
If he hadn't yelled at the smaller hooligan when he came to help search, I would have had more sympathy. Even without sympathy, I spent the entire morning excavating all the dust/spare change etc. from under every bed, bookcase etc. upstairs. To no avail. At least it's a lot cleaner.
I have been accused of being glad she is gone. I am not, if only because now I will worry that she is going to re-appear, say, in my hair at one in the morning.