Bruno came home yesterday from school with this as his reading homework: ‘Captain Underpants and the Big Bad Battle of the Bionic Booger Boy’.
I mean, really. I mean, really, I mean, really.
For those visiting hordes of strangers, Bruno is 6 years old and trying to learn how to pronounce things like ‘and’ and ‘but’ without making them sound weird.
Now it seems the National Curriculum thinks it’s a super idea to send him home with cartoon fart books.
I came over all Mary Whitehouse (any excuse), pursed my lips and scribbled an indecipherable note to his teacher:
‘Miss Wotsit, hello, it’s Bruno’s Mum. Please could Bruno bring home a traditional reading book? He has fun with these things in the holidays but they are full of made-up words and cartoons etc. Thank you.’
Today he brought back a replacement book with a rubbish illustration on the front about some adorable child whose only wish in the whole wide world is to have a puppy as a pet.
So now I have a different set of problems- similar to the ones I had when he brought back the birthday surprise kitten story or the school guinea pig spending its Summer holiday with the luckiest boy in the class.*
Anyway, I was no longer ‘Appalled from Acton’ until I heard him on the phone to a grandparent, explaining the reason he prefers English to Maths:
‘It’s a bit more easier and you know the understanding of it.’
Tomorrow I start street-walking to get him a private education.
*Bru lives in a pet desert