Little Man

I often find myself having imaginary arguments with people at three o'clock in the morning. I'm fighting some comment that pushed me over the edge or I'm railing against the dominant education paradigm that is trying to shoehorn my child into an educational onsie. I find myself quoting wiser minds, current research, government guidance and policy, all arguments and agents of bureaucratic nonsense resolve as I cut through their arguments like a scythe. I'm not loud or aggressive just an unstoppable force powered by a irresistible logic.

I'm marvellous, an über adopter, a member of the elite forces of the adoption world, no one can resist my knowledge and logic, they must yield. I'm an adoption wünderkind,  I'm blogger of the bleeding year and the bleeding year before that, I'm a social worker, I'm a grown up! They do yield, having seen the error of their ways. I'm gracious in victory, offer to share my insight and knowledge with them and their team and they gratefully agree.

It's three o'clock in the morning and I'm rehearsing another meeting with another professional. Words racing around my head again. I fall into an uneasy sleep and wake tired. I'm such a fantasist, I'm pretty sure it's going to be tricky and I've got a knot in my stomach again. I visit the toilet, then again. I can't even remember why I called the meeting, my blood was up about something, my blood is now very down!

I wish we'd scheduled this meeting for 3 am, I was on fire! But alas no. It's just stupid old me, sloppy unconvincing words and half baked arguments as I give in to my sense of  intimidation, I prattle on in an ineffectual way about this and that. I've become the definition of pathetic, they take pity and show mercy. They've got some good ideas, mine are pretty lame.

I go home, thank goodness that's over. I might start a blog about gardening.