Level 2 Chi Kung.

A day of minor frustrations. Dashi’s bus arrived just too late for me to do Chi Kung before the school run. Then I arrived home from school just fractionally too late to do Chi Kung before the cleaner needed to be let in. Except the cleaner then phoned to say she would be late, so I would have had time, but by the time she did arrive, there wasn’t enough time before I had to leave for the re-scheduled parent-teacher meeting at Dash’s school. Really good meeting – though I discovered that Lewisham didn’t pass on any of the paperwork to Dash’s new school, so his teacher has essentially been flying blind – but instead of the scheduled hour, it took two. Stopped to drop off a prescription on the way home but instead of the 15 minutes they promised, it took 35 (to take a tube of cream out of a cupboard and stick a label on it). Which meant that – you guessed it – there wasn’t enough time to do Chi Kung before I had to go pick up Katie! Arrived home, made Katie a snack, and raced straight upstairs to do Chi Kung. Relief!

Katie and I were chatting on the way home from her art class in the evening – happy and relaxed in spite of the cold and dark because, for once, we weren’t needing to be somewhere else by a particular time – when Katie started to list all the things she feels grateful for. This pleased me on several levels. First, we know from research that people who notice and feel grateful for the good things in their lives are happier and healthier, so it’s great to see her developing this mindset so young. Second, most of the things she was talking about were experiences, rather than stuff – which is lovely, and bodes well for her future impact on the planet. And finally, as the person who does most of the organising that enables her to have these neat experiences, its really nice for me to hear that she appreciates them.

K: I’m really lucky you know Mummy.
J: Hmmm.
K: I get to do art classes, and cello, and swimming and film club and trampolining…
J: And yoga.
K: AND YOGA! And I have my own room and on Saturdays, I get to sleep in and have a relaxing day. And you know Mummy, not all children have this.
J: That’s true. We’re very lucky.

So far, so cosy, and then:

K: And I get taken to a fancy hairdresser, far far away, where you get FREE BISCUITS. And you know some children just get taken to a cheap nasty hairdresser in the village.
J: [startled and stalling] How do you know?
K: Well Bobby just got his hair cut and it’s the WORST haircut I’ve EVER SEEN.

Amongst all the little Finns and Russians, and Italians and Czechs and Spanish and Croatians at Katie’s school, actual Sarf Londoners are a bit of a rarity, and often seem disadvantaged in relation to all of us invaders. Bobby is one of only two genuine ‘locals’ in Katie’s class of 30 and seems to have had a rough start in life with serious health problems, so I was immediately alarmed at the thought of him possibly being teased about his haircut.

J: I hope you didn’t say anything to Bobby, about his hair cut.
K: [horrified] Of course not! Bobby’s my friend – I would never say anything to hurt his feelings.