I am sad to say Master I has a glittering social life that puts mine to shame. And mine’s not all bad.
It’s when these things happen that I realise just how much …
>> There are four party invites on the family notice board. None of them are for my husband or I.
>> I realise that I have become Master I’s social secretary when over hear this conversation:
Master I: Do you want to come over for a play one day soon?
Friend: Oh, yes please.
Master I: Good, I will get my mum to email your mum
>> We run into five people Isaac knows whenever we go out to the shops. The shop keepers know him by name.
>> When I do go out, Master I will eye my outfit suspiciously. “Where are you going?” he asks, with definite under-tones of: Were you intending to go out without me – I am not entirely sure how I feel about that.
>> It’s not just Master I, the baby gets in on the action as well. I have caught up with girlfriends, sans-kids, looking forward to uninterrupted coffee and conversation. When I arrive all foot-loose and child-free I am met with a crestfallen, “Oh, why didn’t you bring the baby?”
>> Master I’s FOMO is developing nicely, he was completely crushed when invited to two events on at the same time. We somehow figured out how to attend both. I fear I am teaching bad habits. You can check out my thoughts on FOMO here.
>> If I am out, it gets to 8:30pm and I am looking to head home and get some rest. If Master I happens to still be out at 8:30pm (weekends only), he’s ready to party.
>> The prospect of an early night to myself, with a good book, fills me with more excitement than I ever thought possible.