There is a poorly boy in the house!
My second week in the new job (well, as a staffer, as opposed to a freelancer) and I got a dreaded call from the school telling me that me laddo was sick and I needed to get my ass down there to collect him, pronto.
Cue sweating, panicking, pacing up and down the office and generally melting down. What to do!?
Luckily, my partner is freelance five days a week (or should I say, seven days a week) and - thanks to underground Wi-Fi - I managed to contact him within 10 minutes and he dropped everything to get there.
Bless him. Seriously.
Honestly, I don't know how you mums with full-time jobs and young kids do it. Freelancing totally side-steps this kind of work-related trauma/wringing of hands/deep-seated-guilt-trip; on the only other occasion this has ever happened (a much more dramatic chuck-up all over the dining hall) I was there within minutes without giving it a second thought.
Anyway, I'm here now, and all I want to do is pop him in a cosy pair of PJs and give him ginormous get well cuddles.
Image from John Lewis