So if you're part of my Facebook page hi-jinkery, then you might remember I had an interview at the local Catholic primary school as part of my panicky last-minute painstakingly researched school selection for Luca.
I attended the meeting without Bren as the alternative was for all five of us to go – about as sensible as bringing poo-throwing monkeys along. So Bren stayed home with the poo-throwing monkeys boys while Harlow and I headed off to meet with the principal, Mr D, and the parish priest, Father T.
Harlow was unsettled for the duration of the interview which meant I spent most of that time pacing back and forth, patting her bum. Soothing a crying baby + trying to explain why I wanted to send my child to a Catholic school when I would rather set my pubic hair on fire than go back to attending weekly Mass = awkward.
As the interview wound up, I reminded Mr D that he had been my principal (at a different Catholic school) many years ago. Mentioning my maiden name immediately recalled me to him.
"Oh yes!" he exclaimed, turning to Father T and regaling him with the story of how myself and four of my Grade 6 friends had performed a dance routine for the school talent quest. The song was Joe Cocker's "Leave Your Hat On" and the dance was, in a nutshell, a striptease.
We won the talent quest.
Having no doubt thrilled Father T with tales of my 12-year-old temptress-ness, I was delighted to discover, on returning to my car, that the frantic pacing and patting of an unsettled Harlow had, in fact, caused all but one of my shirt buttons to come undone.
We have decided Luca shall be educated in the public system for now….
Oh it isn’t easy keeping those lactating mammaries contained! Poor father T probably had to take an hour long cold shower after that 🙂
Poor Father T!
Father T probably enjoyed it lol. Oh had a giggle of this post for sure.
Thanks, Dani. My life is all about the laughs – otherwise, it’d be tears!
Oh dear! But don’t you just love those moments? Upsetting the order of the church etc. 🙂
I note the breast pocket’s button is straining too. Father T never stood a chance, did he?