She’d had to reprimand a boy for kicking her at school!!!!!!

I am upset too, I must say. So upset, I’m not sure what to do now, other than contact the school, which of course I did immediately.

But worse was to come.

Last night, after the Street Party on NG Sq, another of my darling daughters was involved – or rather, targeted – in an incident. She was annoyed with a boy for being loud, so took his phone ‘for a joke, Mummy’ – and to show him who was boss, hid it on her person.

Whereupon he removed it – and in doing so touched what I’ll politely describe as her cleavage!!!!!!!

We have fought for millennia for equal rights: but where are we truly when a young man STILL thinks he can put a hand down a girl’s top?!

I despair.

The relevant parties have been informed, but I wanted to share this with you, dear readers, as I know you will immediately get it.

Next week I’ll be looking at how to holiday abroad in half-term both environmentally and organically friendly, while also topping up your tan (using fabby Factor 50 Silken Skin, of course, available from the YourBodyLovesYou website, 10% discount if you mention this blog!)

Off-setting schemes for flights are the best way forward if you are seeking sun!

N.B. If you want to reach out to me, comments are welcome in the normal spaces; I try to answer what I can if I’m not too pushed.

Go Safe, People and Stay Parenting Strong!

Ruby

Zach had never looked so young or so defenceless as he looked in that moment, walking into our living room, the fear blatant on his face.

‘I didn’t do anything, Mum, I swear,’ he whispered as I took his hands in mine, my heart literally twisting in my chest. He was pale beneath his own beautiful skin, and he had tears in his brown eyes.

‘You need to talk to…’ I looked for the prompt. ‘Sorry…?’

‘PC Okoye.’ The young police officer almost smiled. ‘Shall we sit down, Zach?’

Zach and I sat side by side on the old settee, while the officer took Gloria’s old chair opposite, armed with her small notepad.

‘I didn’t do anything,’ he muttered again into my shoulder.

‘Were you drinking last night, Zach?’ PC Okoye asked him.

He shrugged. ‘I had a beer.’

‘Just one?’

‘Maybe two.’ He bit his upper lip with his lower teeth, an old habit I recognised from when he was tiny.

She made a note.

‘So, please, what is the… allegation?’ I asked. My mouth was so dry, I could hardly talk. Could he get done for having a beer aged fifteen? Could I?

‘A young lady called Willow Jackson alleges that—’

‘Willow?’ I was confused.

‘Yes, Willow Jackson alleges that Zach was… inappropriate with…’ The woman paused, looking at her notes.

Zach’s eyes widened. ‘Inappropriate?’

‘With her?’ My belly rolled with fear. ‘With Willow?’

‘No, with a’ – she checked her pad; it seemed to take an age – ‘with a Cecilia Whitaker.’