She’d been on a Christmas shopping trip with her class.
Yesterday’s quest had followed a similar life-skills/shopping expedition last week, when things hadn’t gone smoothly. All I need to say about the previous trip is this: she'd spent the money I’d given her for LUNCH on a book. Parents of non-PWS kids may gloss over this sentence. PWS parents will probably do a sympathy faint. (Her teacher sorted it out, in case you were worried).
And sure enough, yesterday’s visit proved another occasion when her brain over-frazzled with the stimulation of a big shopping centre and the stress of making choices.
I’d told my daughter exactly what the money I’d put in her purse was for. She was under strict instructions to use the cash for the following:
- Lunch (menu choice written down on a note in her bag)
- A Christmas present for her dad (a diary)
- A Christmas present for me (bubble bath)
[Trust me on this, she needs the specifics].
UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES was she to buy a book, or spend any money on herself this time.
A few hours later she arrived back at school having successfully shopped for a suitable dad diary, and having had a Maccy-Ds with her classmates and - as per her instructions -ordered herself a (relatively) low-fat wrap.
But it was what else she’d bought that was interesting. She took a children’s magazine out of her bag, and looked at me. I raised an eyebrow.
“This is for me, Mum, but I didn’t buy a book - I bought a magazine which came with a free book attached!”
“I thought I told you not to buy anything for yourself!”
She looked stricken and stammered: “I did get you this...”
And presented me with a large bottle of water.
I think it's funny today, I do, I really do.
I think it's funny today, I do, I really do.
But yesterday I should have poured it over myself to wake myself up, catch myself on, and not do what I did next, which was to lecture her about listening to instructions, looking after her money better, and not being sidetracked when she was shopping for certain things.
Because I’d forgotten that she’d traipsed round a big shopping centre all day. Had had to make choices all day. Had had to deal with money, and change, and budgeting, which she doesn't really understand properly. How she'd worn herself out completely.
She was shattered. And now she stood there in floods of tears. Her anxieties were popping up one after the other like a game of Whack-A-Mole. She couldn’t contain them. I couldn’t contain them.
The emotional storm subsided. Well, hers did after a shower, hugs, and the lure of her pillow and duvet. I tucked her into bed, trudged downstairs, and sat recriminating myself, whilst she slept like a log.
Today she went on another trip, catching the bus with her sixth-form buddies and their teacher, and heading to Wetherspoon’s for the Christmas dinner she thought she was going to miss when it looked like she’d be in hospital.
And this afternoon she returned, triumphant. She had kept enough cash to pay for her food. She’d foregone her morning snack in order to be able to have the extra calories in her special meal. And she’d bought me a present, which I was not allowed to see.
Fuck knows what it is. I’m just pleased she’s in one piece. And that I am, too.
Song is The Decemberists - Foregone.