LittleBear has, as I believe I have commented, certain foibles. He doesn't like stories, or films, or uncertainty, or peril. His teachers have observed his tendency to retreat into himself, or even put his hands over his ears and sit shaking his head to block out a film if they show them such a thing at school as a treat. My poor poppet.
This term, one of their topics is "Twisted Tales", in which they consider variations on traditional fairy tales - such as Three Little Wolves and the Big Bad Pig. So far, LittleBear has been enjoying it. He even watched, and enjoyed a puppet show. So far, so good.
On my way into school today to collect him, the Headmaster was standing on the gate. He gazed at me earnestly and asked, "Are you OK?" Now, I know I'm pretty tired at the moment, but I began to wonder if there was something more obviously amiss with me. Did I really look that bad? And then... it got worse....
"I had to take Little Bear aside to have a word with him today,"
Oh dear. Oh no. What has my Bear done?
"It was about the Wolf."
At this point, the Headmaster had temporarily lost me, because I'd forgotten a conversation I'd had with LittleBear's teacher last week. I told you I was tired.
"I let him know that it was going to be me dressed as the Wolf. I know he's sensitive, and I didn't want him to be scared, so I told him beforehand that it would be me, and gave him a wink when I came in."
My heart melted.
In a school of three hundred children, the Headmaster knows and cares that one small boy is easily worried, and he made sure to let him know who would be inside the costume of the Big Bad Wolf so that he wouldn't be scared. It's hard to imagine a lovelier environment for my baby to be at school.
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