There has been much school-based concentration in our little house recently.
Not study notes or researching universities for next year. Nothing that simple.
Nope. There’s a school Hallowe-en party tonight and The Teenager has been fretting endlessly about his outfit:
‘Mum, mum, muuuum. I’m sooooo stressed.’
‘I know dear, this is one of those monumental years of your life.’
‘Like, durrrrr. Not that stuff, my costume for the party. What do I, like, go as?’
‘How about a conscientious student? I have books?’
‘Funnneeee.’
‘Zombie?’
‘Did that last year. Too much fake blood. Didn’t work.’
‘Ghost? I’ve got an old sheet. You only have to cut out two eye-holes.’
‘Then no-one gets to see my muscles, durrrr.’ Much eye-rolling.
‘I don’t know? You could go as a telly? I could make you a costume out of an old box?’
‘Muuuuum, it’s not like the old days. We have, you know, flat-screens now. I give up.’
And by that point, so had I, as I cast my mind back to when he was two years old, dressed up in the cutest pumpkin costume, complete with a little pumpkin-stalk hat.
This afternoon, after a tiring day at work, The Teenager pounced on me as soon as my key was in the lock.
‘I fed the cat, honest, and look‘ – he shoves his laptop towards me and a strange person is on the screen.
‘I’m going as an effel player. Genius!’
‘Let me just put my bag down. And, um, get in the door? Ta.’ Erm, effel? A new gaming character? Some Japanese warrior?
‘N. F. L. American football.’
I’m completely confused. Don’t they wear cage-like things over their heads and shoulders? I questioned him about this.
‘I’ll be kind of off-duty.’
‘Right. Jeans and a t-shirt then?’
‘Mum, I’ll wear my NFL t-shirt, black shorts, like, casual like, and carry an American football. But, I need you to do my make-up.’
I sit down with my bags.
‘Ok, show me.’
‘Two big stripes, see?’
‘So you’d have them when you’re off-duty?’
‘Muuuuuuuum. Honestly. One question, can you do them on my face? Without wibbly hands? Pleeeeaaase?’
‘Eye pencil. I’ve got loads I don’t use any more.’
‘Too right – those flicks you tried were, like, wonky.’
‘Don’t push your luck.’
He rummaged through my old make-up pencils, finally finding The One. This! Is perfect.’ He tried it on the back of his hand. ‘And a nice soft colour. I like it. Sorted. Have you got make-up remover for later?’