My son came out of school on Friday evening with great news.
“He’s Star of the Week, Mum!”
Oh how wonderful, I thought, a surprise for many of us I am sure, if you read about the toilet paper incident. Whilst I was elated that my son has turned things around and redeemed himself in a few short weeks, my eye caught the bag he was holding with a cuddly toy inside.
“Who’s this?” I enquired.
“Barney! He’s coming to stay with us for the weekend.”
Oh great.
Since when was this a thing?
A child brings home a class toy to look after as a reward for being a good student. The idea is you bring the bear along with you on a regular (or not so regular) weekend and you paste photos and write a diary for your child to share the following week.
I teared up in Bluey, of course, when Bingo bought Bob Bilby home from day care only to sit him in front of screens with her sister until their parents showed them the error of their ways. It is okay for this to be a thing in fantasy land - but for me? I don’t want to look after a bear! I have enough to do!
I thought about it and I thought I could make a social commentary here, provide some sort of alternative version for the entertainment of the adults that would read the diary we have to fill out going forward.
Here is Barney, watching the boys have a meltdown over which half of the gingerbread man they have been given, when he has none himself. Barney is sad.
Here is Barney throwing crisps all over the floor while Mum hoovers the house. Barney is cheeky!
Here is Barney soaking in the smells of the batch cooking, whilst listening to Parenting Hell, hiding from the dramas playing out in the living room. Barney has had enough!
Before we began, we had a good look at the other parents’ efforts before us. Like a mini instagram, we delved deep into the details of everyone else’s weekends. Some looked very ordinary for which I was grateful to see. Barney in Tesco, getting the weekly shop; Barney in the park but of course Barney made it into London a few times, or to ballet classes or swimming. Isn’t Barney lucky to have been to Centre Parcs?
I thought we weren't going to do anything exciting with Barney, we may as well make it funny, but of course I wasn’t as cheeky as I wanted to be in the end. I rarely am.
But I am a designer and I love homework so it was perhaps not a surprise that I enjoyed it in the end. We popped to Tesco to get the photos printed, stuck them in with coloured paper, wrote snippets on the typewriter and my son added a few artistic interpretations of the events. (I felt it was important he did some of it!) It was a real team effort and a chance to reflect on the weekend, which we wouldn't normally do. After all much of the joy of this parenting malarkey is in the boring day-to-day non-dramas.
On Monday, I was keen to give him back. The added stress of losing the thing was too much for me.
Bye Barney, it’s been a blast.
*
I saw my friend on the green that weekend. Her daughter is in year 1, the year above my son and I pointed to the bear that had taken my youngest son’s seat in the buggy, my eldest long since buggered off home with his Dad.
“Oh that thing… the teacher gave us ours when A’s baby sister was born.”
“Oh, gosh,” we laughed. Can’t wait to do it all over again.
Have you had a class bear come to stay?
Come join me in the comments, I would love to hear your stories and know I am not alone!
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