‘Oh dear,’ tuts the receptionist Miss Holmes with her arms folded across her chest and her head cocked to one side. ‘Did we struggle to get out of bed today, Barnaby? Or was it Mummy who didn’t want to get out from under her duvet?’

‘Haha …’ I smile tightly. ‘I wish.’

‘It wasn’t my fault, Miss,’ Barnaby pleads with wide-eyed innocence. ‘It was the bloody twats.’

‘Barnaby! We don’t say things like that!’ I gasp in shock and horror – at the fact he’d heard and remembered my own words, and then that he’s repeated it at this unfortunate moment. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper to Miss Holmes, who is looking less than impressed. ‘I don’t usually swear around them. Not really … they do say kids have brains like sponges, though. I guess this proves it,’ I say, chucking in something I hope sounds like a laugh.

‘Right … just sign him in here,’ she says, turning the register to face me so that I can sign where she’s written a capital L in red.

‘It’s just, my husband’s away on business so it’s been quite full on and then we got blocked in so had to walk and –’

‘Just sign and then I’ll take Barnaby down to his classroom,’ she says with a sickly sweet smile.

I do as she says and then turn to my son who, thankfully, seems to have brushed off his faux pas with ease as he’s now fidgeting and ready to get to class.

‘Big kiss,’ I say, leaning in for our usual squeeze and peck on the lips.

He smiles back at me then holds out his hand.

I look at it.

He shakes it and frowns.

‘What?’

‘Bag!’ he laughs.

My heart drops. The sodding school stuff that I was so worried about leaving on the path has been left in the car – not only meaning I’ve let down my son again, but a clear indication to burglars that I’m a bit of a scatterbrain who might leave valuables alongside a PE kit and year 1 exercise books.

‘I’m so sorry, Barnaby.’

His eyebrows shoot up in disbelief and disappointment as his mouth drops in horror.

‘We’ll sort you out, don’t worry, Barnaby. I have a lovely notebook you can borrow for the day. I write all my spells in it,’ Miss Holmes giggles in his direction, an air of something less pleasing coming towards me.

‘You OK, Barns?’ I ask softly, kissing his forehead and rubbing his deliciously soft cheeks.

He nods and shows me his powerful brave face, the one where his smile doesn’t quite reach up to his eyes, as Miss Holmes drapes an arm over his shoulder and starts guiding him to class. ‘Say bye bye Mummy,’ she says without looking at me.

‘Love you, Barney,’ I say, my face still full of regret and guilt.