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Cara looked forward to Wednesday afternoons, and so did Jacob, proudly hanging onto her hand to make sure the other kids knew his mum was the ‘Art Teacher’. No doubt in ten years he’d be doing the opposite: ‘What? No, she’s not my mum. I’ve never seen her before in my life.’
As the last of the happy, budding artists left the class when time was up, an idea sprung in Cara’s mind. She tidied up the creative aftermath then knocked on the door to Mrs Fern’s office, clearing her throat.
‘I, ah, was wondering if I could propose something to you?’ Cara raised her eyebrows.
Mrs Fern glanced up from her desk. ‘You sound like my husband, forty years ago,’ she said. ‘He’s not the most romantic or assertive man that’s ever lived, but I love him just the same.’ She smiled. ‘What’s on your mind?’
‘I really enjoy seeing the kids’ smiling faces when they’ve created their artworks, and I thought it might be a good idea – if it’s not too much trouble – to hold an art exhibition to showcase their work to the parents?’
Mrs Fern removed her glasses and narrowed her eyes. ‘An art show, hmm... I think that sounds like a grand idea.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, and maybe it could also be a fundraiser of some kind.’ Mrs Fern rubbed her chin between her thumb and forefinger.
‘Sounds great. What about for those affected by childhood cancer?’ Cara had already thought of this while tidying up the art room. ‘Oh, unless you meant for the pre-school itself, which of course would be – ’
‘No, a charity such as that would be perfect! I can’t thinkof anything better.’ Mrs Fern stood. ‘Why, what a bright young mind you have, Cara.’ She grasped Cara’s hands. ‘Here, take a seat and let’s discuss this further.’ She pointed to the chair in front of the desk, and before sitting, Cara peered out the office to where Jacob sat happily colouring in, waiting for her. She had to get home and get dinner organised, but maybe it could wait just a bit.
At the Life Makeover Club meeting last week, Liz had spoken to Cara about the importance of enjoying the moment. This would be a challenge, as Cara constantly thought about what had to be done next in an effort to stay on top of things. She was told to write up a schedule, allocating times during the day for each area of her life, making sure to prioritise time for herself, her kids, and her husband. ‘Consciously tell yourself what to focus on during each segment of the day,’ Liz had advised. ‘For example: ‘Now is family time’, or ‘Now is me time’.’ By doing this, she could give her full attention to each moment without feeling guilty or overwhelmed. With Easter holidays in a few days, plus her seventh wedding anniversary, Liz had also suggested Cara and her family get away from the house and go somewhere different. Luckily, Pete had secured the Easter weekend off, having worked it last year. Come Saturday they’d be spending quality family time at a quiet beachside town. The plan was to exhaust the kids during the day and hope like hell they’d sleep through the night, allowing Cara and Pete somequalitytime of their own. If that failed, a little Easter egg bribery wouldn’t go astray.
‘Pete! Where’s Dorothy the dinosaur?’Cara called out from the four-wheel drive.
‘Dunno, I’ll look under the bed.’ A minute later Pete poked his head out the front door. ‘Nope, not here!’
‘Jacob, where did you leave it last?’ Cara asked.
‘I don’t know ... I ... need ... Dorofy!’ he managed in between wails.
‘Okay, okay, Mummy will go have a look.’ Cara trudged into the house for the umpteenth time. ‘Why do these things always happen when we’re about to leave?’ she muttered.
Ten minutes later she returned to the car with a soggy Dorothy in tow. ‘Bobo had her hidden in his kennel, Jakey.’ Jacob grabbed the toy with fierce love, oblivious to the wet fur and doggy smell.
When the kids settled in their seats, all their bags in the boot (half of which contained toys), they finally drove away. ‘Thank God you remembered the iPad,’ said Pete. The kids had been silent for the last forty-five minutes, engrossed inMadagascar 2. ‘That’s gotta be a world record for the longest time without an ‘are we there yet?’’
‘Quick! Where’s some wood I can touch?’ urged Cara. Pete laughed. He’d told her when they were engaged how he loved her sense of humour, and how it had been one of the things that attracted him when they’d first met.
‘In two hundred metres, turn left,’said the English voice from the old but might-as-well-still-use-it car GPS suction capped onto the windscreen, or ‘Betty’ as Pete called it. With the GPS, iPad, two phones, and a laptop, their car looked more like it was set up for a twenty-four hour surveillance operation than a family holiday. How on Earth did people cope fifty years ago?
‘Moooo…’a cow noise sounded.
‘What the…?’ Cara looked around for a stray cow.
Pete smiled. ‘It’s Betty. She moos whenever we’re in the vicinity of a petrol station.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know the GPS could do that!’
‘Wait. There’s more.’ Pete’s cheeky grin expanded.
‘Do I want to know?’ asked Cara.
‘You’ll find out soon enough.’
And soon enough, Betty shared more of her talents.
‘Oink, Oink.’
‘That one tells us there’s a school nearby,’ said Pete, as the kids laughed in the backseat.
