I was getting dressed yesterday and through the open window I could hear the local kids walking to school. There was a tiny little voice which kept saying “one, two, three…one, two, three…one, two, three.” I looked out to see a boy so small his mother was carrying his school bag for him. Their conversation went like this;

Her: “You are so Clever! Miss Pilar will be very impressed, but can you remember what comes after three?”

Him: “Seventeen.”

Her: (Laughing) Not really. Try four. One, two, three, four.”

Him: “One, two, three, seventeen, four. That’s what Miss Pilar said.”

They both walked past laughing, and I carried on getting ready with a big smile on my face. I had to work through the siesta so came home early for a quick snack. I could hear the kids coming out of school and making the usual excited din, but slowly getting closer was one kid who definitely wasn’t happy. As the wailing got louder I recognised the same mother’s voice from the morning.

Her: “It doesn’t matter. Come on, you’ll feel better when you’ve had some lunch.”

Him: (Now sobbing) “I hate that Miss Pilar, she thinks she knows everything.”